


The Emperor's Mage

by Avisi



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avisi/pseuds/Avisi
Summary: AU The Emperor Mage, where Numair never left Carthak and instead became Carthak's--and the world's--most feared and powerful sorceror, the Black Mage.The Emperor Ozorne of Carthak has sued for peace, and Tortall's peace delegation includes Daine, sent to heal the royal birds. Inundated with warnings over the Black Mage, she vows to stay out of his way at all costs. But Master Numair is an academic at heart, after all, and he is not about to let the strongest wild mage to ever cross his path go unstudied.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily borrowing from The Emperor Mage! I always thought it was the darkest of the books, and wanted to see what it would be like even darker.

Prince Kaddar, heir apparent to the Emperor Mage, sat crossly under the midday sun, wondering what was keeping the delegation from landing their blasted ship and ending this hell that he was in. Though it was autumn, the heat oppressed the imperial retinue as if it were the very heart of the summer months. Slaves stood on either side of him with large palm leaf fans, but it did nothing but move the humid air around, making him more acutely aware that his long brown hair was sticking to his forehead, no longer as artfully made up as it had been this morning.

“When they were supposed to be landed,” he grumbled. Abruptly, he stood, and signaled for a slave. “Bring me something to drink. Make it _cold.”_ The slave nodded and rushed off, returning presently with a carafe of water sweetened with mint. The prince took a glass, drained it in one mouthful, and held his hand out for another.

“Careful with that,” the ship’s captain warned. “You’ll make your belly sick, in this heat.” Kaddar frowned. 

“I’m already sick with waiting, what’s another ailment?” The prince’s words were sharp, but he took to sipping his drink nonetheless. The captain had known him since he was a boy, and took no offense, indeed paid no mind at all to Kaddar’s words. The older man was focused on the animals at the docks, sitting quietly, patiently, as trained as any house pet. Only they were wild beasts, and should not have been so. He made the Sign against evil.

“Have you ever seen the like?” the captain said in a low voice. Kaddar scanned the shore line, happy to take his mind off of the interminable waiting, if only for a few minutes. Dogs sat with cats, their feuds ceased for the moment, while gulls and pelicans mixed with finches and tanagers. None made a sound, and the silence was eerie. Kaddar made the Sign himself, then made a sound of disgust.

“It’s the girl,” he said. “They say there is a girl from Tortall who has an affinity with animals. There are tales that she can speak with them, heal them, even take their shape.”

The captain looked sidelong at the prince. “As if northerners did not smell bad enough already.” Kaddar grinned, despite himself. Leave it to his sailors to give not one fig about politics. 

“Yes, well, I can only hope that is also a tale. I’m to be her escort, while she is here. It seems she is my age, and apart from healing my uncle’s birds, she will have very little to do.”

“Then we should be grateful for the fine weather, to make sure you have many open-air activities available for the animal-girl.” Kaddar laughed before he could help himself, then bit his lower lip, trying to quell the smile. He did not know what to expect from this delegation, but already he felt like it was not much.

 

The subject of the joke sat in a small bunk on the idling ship.

“Scoot, Kit,” Daine said to the small dragon, who curled up into a tighter ball with a low chirp of displeasure. Alanna smiled at the young girl, squeezing in beside her. Not so young anymore, though, the Lioness thought, eyeing her friend. Daine had turned seventeen, and still seemed more interested in animals than in the young men at court, but clad as she was in an off-the-shoulder blue gown that hugged her modest curves, Alanna was not so sure she would escape the notice of the men here. 

Duke Gareth of Naxen looked around the room at the delegation. “Is the room secure?” he inquired. Alanna snapped her gaze from Daine and quickly sent purple fire to the corners of the room, where it bloomed and coated the walls. 

“It is now,” she assured.

“Very well,” Duke Gareth said. “We all know why we are here. The chance for peace here is paramount, and this is the last chance we will get. You all have heard my warnings, but I give them again: we must be cautious, and give no offense to any, no matter how much they might deserve it. No losing our tempers.” Here, he looked pointedly at Alanna, and she had the grace to blush. “The political climate is not like our own,” Duke Gareth continued. “The Emperor Ozorne is fearsome enough in his own right, but it is his vizier that we be wary of. Master Numair Salmalin is, well…”

“The most powerful mage in all the realms,” Harailt of Aili supplied. Harailt was the master of sorcery in Tortall, and knew such things. “There were once seven who could claim the mastery of the black robe. Master Numair has picked them off one by one, and styled himself the Black Mage. Though none have been able to lay charges against him for doing so, of course. But he alone wears the black. Even the Emperor Mage himself wears the orange. It is imperative that we show as much deference to the Black Mage as we do to the Emperor.” 

Daine frowned at the talk. She did not care much for politics, but this fellow sounded intolerable. “How can this Black Mage be as powerful as the emperor, if the emperor is also a mage?” she asked. Kit whistled alongside her, wondering the same. Duke Gareth turned his gaze to her, eyebrows drawn together.

“Emperor Ozorne and Master Numair grew up together. We do not know which man holds the power of Carthak. Some assume the Emperor Mage is all-powerful, and commands the love of the gods as well as the people. Others put Master Numair ahead of him, for he was always the better student, and given to more arcane pursuits.” Duke Gareth frowned. “One thing is for certain. Emperor Ozorne may still have control of the Carthaki counsel, but it is the Black Mage that is dangerous. He is powerful, and worse, unpredictable. We know that Emperor Ozorne wants peace between Carthak and Tortall, and that gives us some advantage. We do not know what Master Numair wants, or if he wants anything from us at all.” At that, he gave Daine another considering look. “I especially ask that you be careful, Daine. You are here to heal the emperor’s birds, and that is all. No drawing attention to yourself, and no seeming remarkable.” His lips drew thin, as he clamped down over words he dared not say. The Black Mage was a notorious womanizer, as well as an academic. There was no other wild mage as practiced as Daine, and no other expert on wild magic in the world other than one Numair Salmalin. She was not the Black Mage’s preferred woman—that dubious accolade was reserved for shapely blondes—but Duke Gareth would be happier all the same when they were firmly back on Tortallan soil, with his young charge safely away from the eyes of the Black Mage. 

“Unremarkable,” Daine repeated with a wry smile. “I’ll try my best.”

“Wonderful,” Duke Gareth replied. If he registered the sarcasm in her tone, he did not show it. Instead, he launched into more caveats for the delegation, which Daine decided not to listen to. Her thoughts were with the emperor’s birds, and how sitting in the little room was keeping her from helping them. She did not care one hair for the Black Mage, or the Emperor Mage, or any other mages, for that matter. That was better left to Alanna and the rest of the delegation. Daine knew she would not have to try hard to escape the notice of Master Numair. She was unremarkable, just a young girl who had a way with animals. She wasn’t the type to draw the notice of powerful mages anyway, and that suited her fine.

 

When everyone had cleared out of the room, Daine stretched, then frowned at the mirror. She tucked a curl back into place in vain, knowing it would break free the moment she took her eye off of it, but she had little to do until the ship finally docked, and she still had no clue how long that would be. 

“What do you think the animals are like in Carthak, Kit?” she asked, turning to the blue dragonet on the bed. Kitten had not moved since the meeting, other than to spread herself out more thoroughly. The dragon chirped an idle reply, then sat upright suddenly with a low whistle. “Kitten? What is it?” Kitten trilled as silver mist swirled in the room, and Daine got her answer as the badger lumbered into the room and knocked her nose over tail.

— _What are you doing here?!_ — The snarl was impatient, with an edge of worry to it. Daine picked herself off the ground gingerly, then sat once more. “Nice to see you too, Badger,” she said, rubbing her head. The curls would never go back into place at this rate.

— _Don’t be impertinent. You should not be here. Turn this ship around and leave, now, before it’s too late.—_ The badger god was not one to pace, but Daine noticed that he shifted his considerable bulk from side to side anxiously. The badger, anxious? 

“I can’t turn the ship around. And besides, I have to heal the emperor’s birds. Whatever is happening?”

— _It’s not for kits to ask. But you must turn back. This land is not safe, for you or for those in it.—_

“Badger, if we turned around now, the talks would fall apart before they even started. The Carthaks would start a war, and my friends would be in danger again. And the emperor’s birds, remember?” The badger huffed, fixing her with a beady eye.

— _You are truly not going to heed this warning?_ — Daine swallowed hard, for the badger’s fear had become catching.

“I can’t.” The badger sighed, then waddled to the edge of the room, his back to her.

— _Then heed another. Beware the Black Mage. The emperor may hold the power of the realm, but the Black Mage holds power foreign to even your best scholars. Do not cross him.—_ The warning almost made Daine want to laugh out loud. Would there be no end to the warnings about this Numair fellow? 

“All I want to do is heal the emperor’s birds and be on my way,” Daine said. “I have no plans to cross some all-powerful mage, nor do I even know how I would try to do it.” The badger’s hackles lifted slightly.

— _Plans change. Keep well clear of him.—_ He trundled back to Daine and gazed at her, his expression still worried. — _I cannot convince you to go home? No. You are a good kit, for all that you do not listen to your elders.—_ The badger cocked his head to the side, as if listening to something, then frowned. — _What? Oh, alright. But we will have a talk about this, later.—_ He turned to Daine. — _I am sorry about this, but it was insisted upon.—_ The badger breathed, a silvery mist that enveloped her face. His breath smelled of rotting fish and earth, not entirely unpleasant, unlike the sensation that filled her mouth, nose and ears. Her head and lungs filled, like the time she had swallowed too much water under the waves and thought she would pop with pressure, and then the mist disappeared, and so had the badger.

“What,” Daine asked Kitten, “do you suppose that was all about?” The dragonet looked as confused as she did, and chriped, low and worried, in answer.

A knock came at the door. “Daine?” Alanna called. “It’s time. We’re pulling into port, and we’re all needed on deck to wave at our gracious hosts.” 

“Just a moment!” Daine called back. She looked once more in the mirror, to survey the badger’s handiwork. Sure enough, he had knocked her curls into complete disarray. “Kit? The straightening up trick?” The dragon surveyed Daine for a moment before shaking her head. Daine sighed. Of course it would be too much to ask to present herself respectably. Perhaps it was just as well. “If I look a disgrace, then Sir Mighty Powerful Mage will probably lump me in with all the bumpkins and leave me be.” She tried to smile at the young dragon, but Daine’s heart wasn’t in it. The badger’s warning had shaken her. The knock came again at the door, and Daine jumped, opening it. Alanna stood at the other side, looking radiant in pale purple breeches and a gold tunic. 

“Goodness,” she said. “What happened to your hair? Well, never mind. We’re already missed, and Lord Martin will have kittens if we don’t present ourselves in whatever the proper Carthaki way is.” Alanna took Daine by the hand and led her from the room at a brisk pace.

“Alanna, I have something to tell you,” Daine started, but Alanna cut her off.

“Later,” the knight said, her voice low. Daine was about to insist, but the look on Alanna’s face brooked no disagreement. It’s not like the badger said how quickly we had to turn around, Daine reasoned, and took a deep breath, steeling herself against Carthak, and whatever ills it brought with it.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment Daine came on deck, the spectacle the Carthaki People had been making of themselves turned into complete pandemonium, as every animal great and small sounded its greeting to her. She tried not to smile, but it was hard to resist. How could she have been worried coming here, with so many friends already? Thank you, everyone! But go back to your homes now, she urged them silently. You’re making the two-leggers fair nervous! 

Daine and Kitten were at the very end of the delegation, where the lesser nobles stood, which was just as well because it seemed the more important you were, the longer you had to stand and bow. Still, the day was hot, and she could see nothing from her position.

When she finally could see Prince Kaddar, she had to catch her breath. Whatever she had expected, this was not it. He wore a white tunic that set off his olive skin and showed well-muscled calves wrapped with gold sandals, while a red cloak covered one shoulder, fastened at the other across his slim, hardened chest with more gold, this in the shape of a scarab. His sensitive brown eyes were painted like a woman’s, but somehow this only added to his masculine beauty, with kohl accenting the almond shape. Rubies adorned his person, a button at his nose, bangles on his wrist, a large stone at his throat. Gold rings marched up his left ear, while a small circlet of gold sat on an abudance of hair that spilled over his shoulders, the color of rich coffee. He’s fair wondrous, she thought, awe-struck by the display. Daine had never seen a man take this much care with his person, and it was having its intended effect.

All too soon, she was in front of him. He had seemed bored, held erect in his chair by sheer force of will while his eyes belied a desire to be somewhere else. But as she approached, he sat up straighter. 

“Your Grace, you honor me with your invitation, and I will be most humbled to accept your hospitality.” She intoned the words she had been taught, and swept into what she hoped was a perfect curtsy. She silently thanked Queen Thayet for practicing the motion with her until she had it right.

“Veralidaine Sarrasri,” he murmured. Daine rose to meet his eyes, and her breath caught. He truly was a beautiful man, and his gaze warmed her. Kitten chirped, walking up to Kaddar to better examine his gems. 

“Kitten, don’t—“ Daine started, but Kaddar seemed delighted.

“This is your dragon?” he asked Daine. She smiled, releasing a breath she did not know she had been holding.

“She’s her own dragon, Your Grace. I just take care of her.”

“But she is a true dragon? Not a basilisk, or something else?”

“No, Your Grace. A basilisk has more pebbled skin, and Kit—well, her name is Skysong, but we call her Kitten—she has scales, and wings.” The subject of their conversation grabbed Kaddar’s hand, turning it over in her claws as she observed the rings. She croaked, and the ruby bracelet flared to life. Kaddar made a startled sound, then broke into a wide smile.

“She does magic.” Daine nodded, about to explain when one of the prince’s advisors coughed discreetly. The glimpse of sweetness Daine had observed turned into resignation as Prince Kaddar sighed and leaned back in his ornate chair. “My lady Veralidaine, you must join us for a tour of Carthak’s wonders. Wherever you so desire to go, we will take you. Whatever you desire to do, we shall do with you.” An image of a private alcove swam into Daine’s mind, cool stones against her back, warm lips pressed to hers…

Kitten peeped, and Daine hoped the heat of the day hid the blush in her cheeks. “Of course, Your Grace. And if you please, it is just Daine.” Kaddar’s gaze swept from Kitten, then traveled from Daine’s feet up her body, before finally meeting her gaze. A warmth was growing in her belly, one she could not explain.

“I imagine you are not ‘just’ anything, my lady Daine,” he murmured softly. “I look forward to our next meeting.” Daine swept into another curtsy, then moved away to make room for another after her. She commended her legs for doing their job. After the last look he had given her, she was not certain they were going to remember how to continue standing. All thoughts of the Black Mage were scrubbed from her mind as warnings were pushed aside to make room for the image of Prince Kaddar. 

 

“Enjoy your first meeting with a foreign head of state?” Alanna asked as Daine leaned over the rail of the barge. “They make a bit more of a spectacle than we do at home.” Privately, Daine thought this was a terrible understatement.

“I enjoyed it well enough,” she replied, keeping her gaze fixed in the distance. If she was not mistaken, there were crocodiles out there, large lizard beasts she had never seen with her own eyes. It was a much safer pastime than dwelling on her meeting with the prince. Alanna surveyed her young charge and pursed her lips. Daine’s safekeeping was her responsibility, and it had been an easy task so far. But she had the distinct feeling that was all in the past. Standing at the rail in her gossamer blue gown, it was hard to remember the awkward thirteen-year-old that had walked mud-covered into Corus in the midst of a herd of mountain ponies. Onua had remarked that more than one young Rider had been taken to task by Sarge for expressing certain opinions about Daine, most having to do with the swell of her bum or her shapely legs. It did not help that those big blue grey eyes seemed so innocent, that Daine’s full mouth looked entirely too vulnerable. Perfect for some villain to think he can take advantage, Alanna thought crossly.

The knight sighed heavily, and Daine turned to her. “Is something wrong?” the younger girl asked. Alanna shook her head.

“No, not wrong. Just…” Alanna paused, scratching her nose. Gods bless it, was this how Rebekah had felt, handing her a pregnancy charm? Alanna felt a hundred years old, and far away from the young woman who had taken a Shang warrior to bed. “Daine, I know you’ve heard more warnings about this court than you’ll need a lifetime. And it’s not even a warning, so to speak, it’s just…information.” Daine smiled encouragingly, certain she knew where this was going.

“I’ve been around animals in spring time, Alanna,” she said with mirth. The knight shifted to the other foot.

“Yes, yes,” Alanna replied impatiently. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I know you know about sex. What I am talking about is politics.”

“Politics?” Alanna nodded.

“The peace we come to broker is tenuous at best. There is a lot at play here. We are women unveiled, from a foreign land. That makes us a commodity. I’m married, so at least I have that to recommend my reputation. But you are a young woman, unmarried, and unspoken for. There is many a noble who would love the trophy of a Tortallan woman on his mantle, especially one so beloved by the king.”

“A trophy?” Daine asked with a frown. “Like a hunter?”

“Yes, like that. There are a number of games afoot when political tension is high. One of them is the game of beds, and I imagine the Carthaki will use any advantage they have. Take care in your dealings, and be especially careful with—“

“The Black Mage. I know. I’m fair certain I’ve no worry in that quarter—from what I hear, he is interested only in buxom blonde women who have nothing ‘twixt their ears.” Alanna raised an eyebrow.

“And where, pray tell, did you hear this?” Daine ducked her head, realizing she should have kept that to herself. The Rider girls had not let her travel to Carthak without giving her all the most salacious gossip they could think of, much of it having to do with the Black Mage, and his legendary reputation as a womanizer. “Never mind,” Alanna continued. “I was not thinking of him anyway. I was going to say be careful with Prince Kaddar.” At the mention of his name, a traitorous blush suffused Daine’s face, and she looked up in alarm into Alanna’s purple eyes that seemed to know more than ever. “I thought so. Take care, Daine. He is a prince of the realm, and while you are free to give your love where you may, he does not have that luxury. You are turning into a young woman, and he has not been heir so long as for me to trust he knows where his duty as nobility lays.”

Daine turned back to the marsh, trying to will the blush from her cheeks.

“He’s a prince, Alanna,” she said. “Princes like fancy women, I’m sure he will have no thoughts for the likes of me.” It was hard, Alanna thought, to remember that Daine was only sixteen. 

“Under all of that finery, the prince is still a man. Remember that, love.” The knight patted Daine’s shoulder, and moved to the front of the barge, leaving Daine bewildered and embarrassed, though she didn’t know why. 

Come hunt instead, sister. A pair of crocodile eyes appeared of a sudden from the surface of the marsh, and then another. It is a simple thing, and will not vex you like these two-leggers. Daine smiled, certain the crocodiles were right in that.

Perhaps another time, she replied. I’m to stay decent for the day, else I’ll be in trouble.

Shouting voices to her right snapped Daine from her conversation. On another barge, a young boy was struggling with something in his arms while a slave woman berated him. The boy was crying, but it was nothing to the screeches emanating from his charge. Daine realized it was an animal, and no sooner did she register this thought than the boy opened his arms and the creature tumbled into the river. 

“You see? You don’t deserve any thing you can’t hold on to!” the slave told the boy sharply, and turned the crying child away from the river, giving no more thought to the animal who had tumbled into it. 

The crocodiles did not share her disinterest. The small creature was struggling fiercely to stay afloat, but the current kept pulling it down. The crocodiles swam lazily toward it, knowing the little animal was going nowhere.

“No, don’t!” Daine cried aloud, but the crocodiles were too intent on their meal to listen. She bit her lip, then cursed, kicking off her delicate slippers and jumping the rail of the barge to dive into the river. Shouts followed her, but she ignored them as she sliced cleanly through the current to reach the little animal. Up close, she saw it was a small monkey, like none she had ever seen before, and it was wearing a monstrously oversized jewel collar. She scooped the animal from the river, then tread water as she unlocked the collar and pumped the monkey’s lungs, willing him to breathe. The small animal coughed once, then screeched, panicking and scampering up Daine’s arm to her head. The sudden motion made Daine lose her concentration, and she dipped momentarily under the water, inhaling a mouthful of river before gaining control again.

In the confusion, the crocodiles slipped closer to Daine.

You come to hunt with us after all, sister, the nearest one said in a silky voice. Daine struggled to get her charge under control while treading water at the same time. 

“Please calm down,” Daine said desperately, “I can’t—“ The small monkey screeched at the crocodiles, tangling its small hands in Daine’s curls and pulling at her scalp. I’m not hunting with you! Daine said to the crocodiles. Please go away, you are scaring him!

They taste better when they are scared, came the reply. The crocodiles circled her in the water, waiting for Daine to release her charge. Please, Daine repeated, adding a touch of her will to the request. The crocodiles faltered for a moment, but it was hard to concentrate, and her will slipped. The nearest crocodile lashed out, and Daine shouted, throwing out her magic like a net. 

Instead of catching the crocodile, Daine found herself soaring through the air, born on magic, to be dumped unceremoniously on the banks of the river. She crawled to her knees, cursing. Alanna knew better than to interfere when Daine was with the People! “Odds bobs, Alanna, I was doing just fine—“

“It seemed like a rather different story from where I am standing,” came the silken reply. Daine started, looking up for the first time. Before her stood perhaps the tallest man she had ever seen. He was swarthy, with coal black hair and eyes that glinted like onyx, as unfathomable as a hawk, and just as sharp. A simple white shirt pulled against broad shoulders, and powerful legs strained against his well-worn breeches. His only adornment was a black stone hung by a leather thong around the thick column of his neck. A blacksmith? Daine wondered, but despite the simple dress, something about the man’s demeanor shouted power, not just the physical kind. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, taking care to not dump her new cargo. She cradled the monkey in the crook of one arm and tried to sketch a curtsy, but with the added weight, she was considerably more clumsy than she had been before the royal delegation. 

“Begging your pardon, sir. I thought you was—were someone else. I thank you for your help, but you needn’t worry on my account. See, I can talk to the animals, which is what I was doing, because I am—“

“Positively brimming with wild magic.” Daine’s gaze snapped up, and her breath caught at the look in his eye. She had seen it before, but she could not place where. One thing she knew, it was a powerful mage indeed who could examine _her_ magical aura, and an educated one who even knew what wild magic was, let alone speak of it without dismissing it as an old wives tale. The man reached out and brushed a wet curl from her forehead. “What potential there is here, if you only had the right training,” he murmured. Daine straightened, standing with her back stiff, and batted his hand away.

“Excuse me,” she replied, a bit more forcefully than she had intended for a stranger. “I have been trained by the Lioness herself, one of the best sorceresses in the world.” 

“The Lioness is a knight, and a healer. Perhaps she has guided you to your power, but she has not trained you in it.” Daine scowled.

“And what would you know about it?”

“A great deal more than you, I’d imagine.” Daine’s eyes widened, blue grey darkening like thunderclouds.

“Does your ma know she forgot to teach you manners? You may know about my magic, whoever you are, but you don’t know _me.”_ The tall man grinned wolfishly, and Daine was displeased to find him attractive. He doesn’t hold a candle to the prince, she thought fiercely. He stepped towards her, uncomfortably close, so she had to crane her neck to look up at him. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

“Certainly, we shall have to change that.” Without taking his eyes from hers, he barked at a passerby on the dock. “You! Your cloak, now.” A woman, richly dressed, startled, and before she could remove the cloak herself, the man’s magic pulled it from her. It was made of fine brocade, a beautiful shade of orange with gold thread. The man pressed it into Daine’s hands. 

“What are you doing?” Daine asked, indignant. “I’m not even cold! Give this back this instant!” She tried to thrust the garment back at him, but he held up his hands. She may as well have been offering it to a wall of stone.

“Please, Your Excellency,“ the woman stammered, trying to back away and curtsy at the same time. “Accept my humble offering—” The man did not pay the woman any attention, and rather than wait for an answer, she fled down the dock, abandoning the cloak. Daine turned to watch her go, then whirled back on the man. 

“What is wrong with you?” she hissed.

“The answer to that would depend entirely on whom you ask,” he replied mildly. Daine grit her teeth, and tried to give him the cloak one more time.

“I do not want this. I do not want anything from you, especially if it is taken by force.” The look, the one she could not name, leapt back into his eyes, and once again she found it difficult to breathe. 

“A pity,” said the man. He stepped back, his gaze wandering for the first time. “You may not want it, but you need it.” His eyes traveled down her throat, lingering on her breasts before trailing down her stomach and her legs. Daine blushed fiercely, her breath coming shallow and her heart pounding. It seemed where his eyes went, that he brushed her with the lightest touch.

“I need nothing from you,” she said.

“Perhaps you think so,” he replied mildly. “But your dress is ruined, and as much as I have been enjoying it, I imagine you will appreciate my gift once your friends arrive.”

“What? What are you—“ Daine looked down for the first time, and nearly screamed in anger. The beautiful blue gown, as gossamer as a butterfly’s wing, was clearly not meant for the water. It clung to her every curve, as transparent as if she wore nothing at all. With a curse, she threw the cloak around her shoulders, hugging it tight against her chest. “How dare you,” she said, breathless with anger. 

“How dare I what? Save your life? Or protect your decency?” 

Daine spluttered. “You have done neither of those things!”

“A rather different story,” he said, “from where I am standing.” The man grinned, and before she could help herself, Daine slapped him. 

Like the tide rushing out, the grin left his face, replaced by a storm. He grabbed her hand and held it fast, engulfing it in his oversized grip. “I will give you that one.” His voice was low, dangerous, nearly a growl. “But should you seek to strike me again, I will forget that you are an ignorant foreign girl, far from home.” As he spoke, he squeezed her hand, until the small bones ground together. 

“You’re hurting me,” she said. He did not release her. Daine refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out, but sweat began to bead on her forehead. He was not holding her hand that hard, she knew. He was putting magic behind it. It was too much.

“Daine!” Alanna’s voice called out to her. Daine turned, seeing that the barge had nearly come to shore. The scene was distinctly Carthaki, and of a sudden the heat of the day became oppressive, the sounds of the dock blaring, the smell of the marsh overpowering. She was far from home, and this was not Tortall. Daine turned back to the man and lowered her lashes. 

“Please,” she whispered. “Please let me go.”

“So your name is Daine,” he murmured. Immediately, the pressure on her hand ceased, and the pain lessened. She saw black fire entwining her fingers as he healed whatever damage he had done. He then brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, as was the custom back home. To all the world, he appeared the chivalrous gentleman. But she saw the mockery in his eyes, and hated him for it. 

“Until we meet again, sweetling,” he said softly, then turned to the barge and sketched a deep bow to the prince. Without another word, he walked off, and the crowds parted where he went to let him through.

“Daine!” Alanna said once more, near jumping off the barge to get to her. Daine’s knees buckled, and Alanna ran up just in time to keep her from falling. “Are you alright? I thought you were talking with those crocodiles, but then you were pulled out—“

“I’m fine,” Daine said, hoping her voice did not shake as much as her legs. Alanna led her to a bench, where Daine sat down gratefully, taking care to keep the cloak wrapped tightly about her. “I _was_ fine too, until that impossible, horrible, rude man pulled me out of the river!” 

Alanna’s gaze shot to the barge, where the delegation was disembarking more politely than she had done, then back to Daine. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Goddess, Daine, do you even know who that man is?” Daine’s stomach sank as she shook her head slowly, begging all the gods to not let Alanna say what she knew she would. The knight pressed the heel of her hand to her eye in frustration. “All those warnings, wasted. I haven’t heard much about the Black Mage having a forgiving streak, but we’ll just have to hope he does. Come, let’s get you cleaned up.” Daine stood up, her whole body feeling wooden, numb, as she had a revelation. 

The Black Mage. Of course it had to be him. But that was not what disturbed her. She had finally put a name to the look she had seen in his eyes, that odd light she could not place. Daine had seen it once before, in Galla, when she had ran on all fours like a wolf, when her own village folk had chased her down to kill her.

The Black Mage looked at her like a hunter surveying his prey. He looked like he wanted to swallow her whole.


	3. Chapter 3

Daine nearly sighed with relief as she arrived in her apartments. They were close by to Alanna, and the knight was placated that she would have a close eye on the young woman, lest she think of getting into any more trouble. This is nice, chirped Zek, springing from behind Daine’s hair to tuck lustily into a fruit bowl sitting on her vanity. Daine smiled, then took advantage of the wash basin while Kitten inspected every corner for whatever it was baby dragons looked for. Soon, Daine felt fresh and new, clad in a whispering gown of twilight blue with silver beads across a modest neckline. Her walk through court had shown that though the women outside the walls of the palace were expected to be covered, inside the palace was another story. The emperor loved his displays, she had overheard Lord Martin saying crossly, so Daine was not going to argue. It was fair hot in this place, and the dresses Thayet had gifted her were nice and light.

You look pretty, Zek said, popping another grape in his mouth. Like a nice piece of fruit. Daine smiled and ruffled his fur. The dresses were gloriously beautiful, that certainly did not hurt either. She gave the room one last look, and then frowned. Since she arrived, there was one sore spot for her, a thick tiger skin rug with the head still attached, jaws stuck in an eternal roar. She had avoided it as much as possible, but it felt wrong, her all dressed up and about to go have fun and such a majestic creature, laid out on her floor like so much refuse. 

Daine crouched beside the rug and sighed. “You poor, beautiful thing. Two-leggers are fair stupid sometimes, thinking you look better lying here than out in the jungle somewhere.” She reached out a hand to caress the striped cheek, but instead of springy fur, her fingers felt hot, itchy. White light sprang from them, filled the room, and knocked Daine backward with a yelp.

Kitten whistled, a low warning. Daine sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes so her vision would clear, then looked at the rug, and the rug looked at her. 

The tiger skin yawned.

“Goddess!” Daine yelled, scrambling backward, but the tiger skin had stopped moving. “Did you see that?” she demanded of Zek and Kitten. Both of them looked as bewildered as she felt. With a hairbrush, Daine gingerly pushed the tiger skin away from her, stuffing it under the bed. As she did, she felt anger rising in her breast. Had the Black Mage cursed her somehow? She couldn’t think of another reason a dead tiger’s skin would want to move around in _her_ apartment, but it did not make any sense for him to jeopardize the talks for some mage’s trick.

“Still…” Daine muttered darkly, climbing to her feet and smoothing the wrinkles in her dress. “I’m in enough trouble, don’t you think?” Kitten nodded happily, chirping her agreement, and Daine shook her head, hoping against hope that the rest of the trip would be filled with helping the emperor’s birds, and absolutely nothing else.

Daine met Alanna outside their rooms, and grinned to see the knight clad in a gown of deep purple, with her red cropped hair swept back with amethyst pins. Daine sighed, trying not to be envious of the knight. “You look fair wondrous,” she said. “Thayet says there’s nothing like a good gown to give you confidence.” Alanna smiled crookedly, a hint of a blush on her cheeks, and swept her hand by her side, grasping comically for a hilt that was not there. “I’d feel a lot more confident with a sword around my hips, but I suppose one can’t have everything.” 

Daine giggled. “No, I suppose not.” 

Alanna’s eyes narrowed when she noticed Daine’s own dress. “One of Thayet’s?” she asked. Daine blushed and nodded, and Alanna fought hard to purse her lips in disapproval. She had been Daine’s age—younger, even—when she had come into her own knowledge of her femininity. It was not for Alanna to throw a sack on the girl and hide her from male eyes like the Carthaki, but at that moment, it was just what Alanna wanted to do, especially after seeing the way the prince had looked at her.

Daine had no thoughts for her own appearance for the moment, for when the rest of their delegation arrived, her heart swelled to see what dashing figures they all struck. Perhaps Carthak was known for its excessive displays, but none could match Tortall in honest elegance. As they walked toward the hall, Daine remembered for the first time the badger’s warning, and his insistence that she share it with the others. 

“Alanna, I have something important to tell you,” she started, but the knight hissed out of the side of her mouth, then leaned in. Daine tilted her head to hear her whisper.

“Kitten is here so I don’t have a care for listening spells, but there are plenty of eyes trained to read lips, and plenty an ear sharp enough to catch a passing conversation. If it’s important, it will have to wait until we are in a safer place.” Daine nodded, and shivered. She may walk among her people right now, but this was not Tortall. They were not free to say or do what they would. Unbidden, the face of Master Numair came to mind, his fierce black eyes, dancing with humor one moment and darkening into thunder the next, telling her she was far from home. He’s not wrong, Daine thought sadly. She cast her eyes upward, giving out a silent prayer. Goddess, keep us safe in your palm. Great Mithros, please let us get home with no more funny business.

If the gods heard her, they gave no reply. 

***

The Black Mage himself was getting ready to meet the Tortallan delegation, but his mind was only on meeting the girl again. He stood in front of the long glass, studying his reflection, dwelling on the events of the day. Though he was due in the throne room shortly, he had managed only to don the northern style breeches that he preferred to the Carthaki tunic. Instead of selecting a shirt, he fastened the black opal around his neck, running a finger across its smooth surface idly. He wondered whether black opals could amplify wild magic, as they did the Gift. A true wild mage had not been seen in Carthak for hundreds of years, and he disliked that most of his knowledge of them was purely academic. There were the Beast People, but they were an anomaly, and only footnotes in his books. But someone like this girl, now there was a power to be studied! 

He pulled his jet hair back in a leather thong, thinking back to their encounter earlier. Mithros, she was young, but her loveliness could not be denied. Numair reasoned that it was her power that drew him. Her power, he thought, and not her waist that he could span with both hands, not her small upthrust breasts that had been taunting him through that ridiculously sheer material. The sharp heat of desire lanced through him, and Numair scowled, taking a deep breath to steel himself against it. There was no denying that he wanted her. To study, he reminded himself fiercely. She was a prickly one, and he would need her trust to fully plumb the depths of her power. He did not mind his reputation as a rake—encouraged it, in fact, for he knew it was a sore point for the emperor—but he imagined that Daine would have been warned against him already. Not to mention their first meeting, where he had not exactly been chivalrous. 

Numair frowned. He prided himself on his ability to always be in control, but she had goaded him into threats, with her defiance, blue grey eyes flashing disdain. He admitted it thrilled him, at first, to be spoken to in such a way. There were few these days who would dare even look in his eyes, let alone truly try to thwart him. But she had pushed too far, and his temper, so evenly maintained, had somehow snapped. He had not lost his temper in an age, and yet this slip of a girl had managed it in two minutes. His frown deepened as his thoughts cast back to her in that moment, dripping on the banks of the River Zekoi, her cheeks suffused with a blush, the soft skin of her wrist held in his palm, her breath coming faster as she realized who he was, that here was a man who would not yield to her demands.

He rolled his eyes at his reflection and turned away. The very thought of the girl, and he was hard as a rock. Not yield, indeed. So much for the Black Mage’s famed self-control, he thought sourly. 

“Talu!” he called, and the door to Numair’s chambers opened, admitting an older man with a shaved head. He was smaller than the Black Mage, with the easy demeanor of one who is secure in his place in the world. Talu could tell his master was in a mood, but it did not bother him. His master was always in a mood, and Talu had learned to bear these moods easily. He had known the master since Numair had been the young Arram Draper, fresh from university and green in the ways of politics, best friend to the heir apparent. Talu had helped Arram navigate palace life, and the master had intervened when Talu should have aged out of palace duty, claiming Talu to be the personal valet of the vizier Numair Salmalin, as he had taken to calling himself by then. The role was largely ceremonial. A mage of Master Numair’s caliber needed no help dressing and looking presentable. If Talu was being called in to help him prepare, it meant the master had something on his mind. 

“Dawdling about again, Black Mage?” Talu asked, taking stock of his master with a paternal pride. Numair stalked about the room like a restless jungle cat, and clad only his breeches Talu was pleased to see that while the mage’s Gift grew, he continued to listen to Talu’s advice that strong magic should exist only in a strong body. Talu had no Gift himself, but he had seen much in his years, not the least of which was a sorceror drained of magic, fallen to a knife or a sword. Even if Master Numair did not possess the strongest Gift in the world, it would be a brave man indeed who would challenge him to a fight.

“I’d hate to gain a reputation as a punctual man,” Numair drawled. “People might come to expect things of me.” Talu shook his head, walking over to the bureau to select a suitable garment for a royal audience. 

“Perish the thought, master.” It was no difficulty picking a fine black tunic stitched with silver thread. “Stand by the glass, if you please.” Numair did as he was bid, and waited patiently as Talu dressed him. “Is the master nervous to meet with the Tortallan delegation?” the slave asked.

Numair snorted. “I have fought every black mage in the world and defeated them single handed. I hardly think a foreign delegation of politicians would have me anywhere near nervous.” 

“And yet the master fidgets like a schoolboy.” Numair glared at Talu through the mirror, but the slave ignored him, returning to the bureau to procure the black robe that would complete his dress. He helped Numair shrug into it, and surveyed the final result.

“Ozorne plays a game that is beginning to bore me. I tire of the politics, as you well know.”

“So the schoolboy prefers to leave his real studies for some wild pursuits,” Talu replied mildly. This time, his remark prompted Numair to turn so the men were face to face. 

His voice low and dark, he said, “What have you heard?”

“Only the idle palace gossip, of course.” The slave took a small brush and dusted his master’s shoulders off, not the least worried about Numair’s tone. “That a lovely young maid rides with the delegation, and that a certain Black Mage met her on the banks of the River Zekoi, and she in a shocking state of undress. But I assume you will tell me your interest is purely academic?” Numair turned back toward the mirror, his mouth set in a thin line.

“You’d know me for a liar if I did,” he responded. Talu nodded, straightening the sleeves on the robe. 

“Of course, if this girl has captured your interest, then you may be certain she’s caught the interest of the emperor as well. And you know how well he loves his toys. Ah, there, you see? The picture of elegance.” Talu stepped back from the mirror while Numair surveyed the dark figure he struck. The picture of forbidding doom, more like, he thought, and just the way he preferred it. 

“Ozorne can’t have her,” he said. The moment the words left his lips, he knew he meant them. Ozorne would have no idea what to do with such raw and primal power, no idea how to elicit its secrets, tease out its nuances. The emperor was a ham-fisted novice with his Gift, more prone to punching through silk with an awl, while Numair knew when to use a fine needle. The man would probably lock her up in the university, demanding she tell him all she knew, rather than gain her trust and discover it with her willingness. 

Or he’d rather keep her in his menagerie, among the animals, a small voice said. 

No. 

Daine was his mystery to explore, Numair decided. She was his, no matter what. 

The thought of Daine, standing on the river bank in her dripping blue dress, filled him with lust once more. He rubbed his face, knowing this problem would not solve itself. He needed a woman under his hands. “Talu,” Numair said, “please send for the Lady Varice. Tell her I do not care what she is doing.” They would certainly be late to the proceedings now, but the thought of making Ozorne wait did nothing to dampen Numair’s ardor. Talu pursed his lips, but said nothing. He knew a dismissal when he heard one, much as he knew his master had made up his mind on something he did not wish to share. The slave turned on his heel and left at a trot. No doubt the lady would screech his ear off about how she could not possibly be pulled away on such short notice, but Talu knew she would come along. Women like her did not usually ignore a summons from Master Numair Salmalin, especially not when it was a summons to his private chambers.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The Tortallan delegation entered the antechamber to the throne room, Daine and Kitten bringing up the rear. Zek had refused to stay behind, so he took a spot under Daine’s curls, which she had left unstyled in the face of convention so the small monkey would have a place to hide. As they crossed the threshold, Daine could hardly help herself to stare like a country girl from the mountains of Galla. There was much to stare at, though. Globes of light illuminated the hall, twinkling at a man’s height and higher to reach the very apex of the vast ceiling. The walls were adorned in mosaic patterns that stretched forever, and the people! Nobles and mages were standing about, dressed in some of the finest clothing Daine had ever seen. Silks and brocades in rich colors dominated the hall, and she saw more jewels than the most fancy Tortallan ball. The men and women were buzzing with murmurs and casting glances at the foreign diplomats, some interested, and some, Daine noted, more than suspicious. As she walked toward the door to the throne room, Daine also noticed a group of young men eyeing her with approval, and blushed. She knew why they looked, and she was not sure if she should be thanking the queen for her gown or shaking her. Thayet had insisted on a new wardrobe, and Daine had agreed after some argument, though her protests died on her lips when she saw the beautiful gowns. 

When she had turned them over, she had asked, “Aren’t they missing some fabric?”

“I hear it is warm this time of year,” the seamstress had replied with a smile, though Daine did not see how that was an excuse. The dresses were all completely backless. When Daine had put them on, nearly to a one they had dipped to the small of her back, exposing more skin than she had ever shown in her life. No one in Tortall would dare wear such a garment. If it were not her only choice, Daine would not have dared wear it either, but the queen had laughed kindly and said, “Trust me in this, Daine. There is nothing like a beautiful gown to give a woman confidence.” 

Daine squared her shoulders and lifted her head slightly. The queen said to trust her, and trust her she would. Perhaps the men and women of this court had never seen a person’s back before. Well, they had never seen a wild mage before either. Maybe we all dress like this! Daine thought fiercely.

A shuffle at the front of the delegation drew Daine’s attention, and she realized they were not moving forward, nor was the door to the throne room opening. 

“I had so hoped there would be no waiting this evening, but it seems it is not to be,” sighed a voice beside her. Daine turned to see a tall, lanky man wearing a scarlet robe with earth brown cuffs and hem. He had a weathered face with earnest blue eyes and flyaway blond hair, and under his robe he wore northern style breeches and a shirt, though they were made of fine fabric, as if he did not relish court functions but made the smallest accession possible to their conventions. 

“Lindhall!” cried Alanna, slipping from her place in line to embrace the tall man. Daine covered a smile at the sight they made. The top of Alanna’s head barely made it to the man’s chest, and she hugged him around the middle like a child hugging a parent. “Why are you not already inside? I thought you were the favored mage around the university these days. Doesn’t that merit some recognition?”

The older man smiled kindly. “You know I wish for none of that, Alanna,” he said, and then turned to Daine. “This wonderful dragon at your heels tells me you are Daine, yes? I’ve heard so much about your ability to commune with animals, and it is absolutely fascinating. You have the answers to so many theories, I believe, like bats, for example, you have confirmed that they can see through hearing? I hypothesized as much many years ago and was summarily dismissed by my colleagues, but I knew that it must be so…” He trailed off, looking at her expectantly, and Daine grinned in spite of herself.

“Yes sir, well sort of, they squeak at things and then the noises bounce back. They use both ears, kind of swiveling around and the squeaks mean different things—“

“Don’t get him started, Daine,” Alanna said, pulling a face. “We’re already at a court function. Let’s not make it a school one too.”

Daine giggled, and the man ducked his head, blushing faintly. “I do go on, that is true,” he said. “And here I have not even introduced myself. I am—“

“Lindhall Reed,” Alanna finished. “Extraordinary academic, wonderful researcher of animals, and left Tortall far too soon because he loves books more than me.” She gave him a playful punch on the arm, and Daine’s heart went out to him. He winced only slightly, but the Lioness often forgot her own strength. “A friend of my father’s, you see,” Alanna continued. “The amount of times I listened to their academic debates while I was trying to sleep…Tortall has mourned your loss, Lindhall.” 

Lindhall Reed smiled, patting Alanna’s cheek, and Daine could just see him as the kindly uncle. “How is Myles?” he asked.

“Trying to rope _me_ into his debates,” Alanna said with a grin. “But the Goddess knows I’m just a simple knight these days. I leave the learning to my betters. Now what’s this about a hold up here?” 

Lindhall’s smile faltered, and when he spoke, his voice was pitched lower, nearly lost in the buzz of the surrounding voices. “There has been, ah, confusion lately, over when one’s presence is required in the throne room.”

Alanna furrowed her brow. “You mean the emperor hasn’t arrived yet?” Lindhall pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, and Alanna’s eyes grew troubled. “The gods never make anything easy, do they?” she said. 

“Less and less these days, it would seem,” Lindhall murmured. Daine thought of the badger’s warning, and felt her belly grow cold. The sooner she could get Alanna alone, the better.

But another thought was more pressing, and Daine could not help interrupting their conversation.

“Please, Master Lindhall, if you work with animals, perhaps you know something of the emperor’s birds?”

“Ah yes, in fact, I care for them—“

The doors to the throne room opened, and Alanna jumped.

“Goddess bless, they could warn a body!” she cursed, rushing to the front of the delegation, lest she offend by being late herself. Lindhall smiled apologetically at Daine, promising they would continue their conversation soon before fading into the crush of nobles and disappearing from view.

Kitten whistled, questioning, and Daine shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea what Alanna and Lindhall had been talking about either. King Jon and Queen Thayet would never keep anyone waiting, especially not when peace was at stake, but Daine knew enough to know they were special in the realm of rulers, and she would not be surprised if the Emperor Mage’s manners were lacking. After all, he had spent the better part of a year trying to attack Tortall with underhanded tactics, necessitating this visit in the first place. 

But something about Lindhall’s subtle gesture made her think they were not talking about the emperor. The prince, then? she wondered, but discarded the thought. The prince was a sweet man, and a good politician. He had sat all day to greet them at the docks, and was not the type who would keep a delegation waiting.

Though she had vowed to give no more thought to the Black Mage, Daine knew it had to be him. He was brutish enough to give no care to whether the Tortallans had traveled far, and were weary of waiting. Still, the thought made her frown, and not just becaues she loathed the man. If the Black Mage could keep them waiting, did that not mean he was keeping the emperor waiting as well? 

Can he do that? asked Zek, peeping out from under her hair. Daine bit her lip.

If he can, it means things are worse here than we thought, she replied. It means the Black Mage might have more power here than even the emperor. And that would be bad. That would be very bad.

Zek shivered and hunched back down under her hair. Unbidden, Daine thought of those eyes again, hawk-like and fathomless. A man like that, in charge of a country…

She shivered herself, thrusting the thought away. She was here to take care of the emperor’s birds. They were growing more ill, and she had not even had a chance to look at them. There were enough folk to think of the politics without making herself crazy over them. 


	5. Chapter 5

Daine entered the throne room last, and was glad for it. It gave her time to look around, and look she did, for the room was grand in a way she had never seen in Tortall. It was not overly large in size, but that only served to illuminate its beauty more. The vaulted ceilings were dotted with small light globes that twinkled like stars in the sky, and indeed those same stars were visible through small arched windows that wrapped around the room like a maypole ribbon, letting the warm southern breeze wash over the crowd that awaited the emperor. Daine noticed Harailt studying the light globes that lined the walls, commenting to Lord Martin that it was magic he had not encountered before, with a frown that belied much. An involuntary shiver raced down her back as she remembered the Black Mage’s words. _An ignorant foreign girl, far from home._ And now she stood in a throne room grander than even King Jonathan’s, among nobles that may as well be jewels themselves, for how ostentatiously they wore their wealth. 

Daine considered begging illness and turning to run back to the safety of her room, but then she caught sight of the emperor, and gasped. 

If she had thought Prince Kaddar was the finest dressed man she had ever seen, he may as well have been the prince of paupers next to the Emperor Ozorne. Upon a throne wrought with gold sat the Emperor Mage, as resplendent as the sun. He wore a robe of delicate cloth-of-gold that fell to his knees, exposing bronze calves laced up with gold sandals. Every finger bore a gold ring, some set with rubies, some with topaz, and his ears dripped with gold chains that looped from tip to lobe. His face was made up to be otherworldly, and Daine could not stop herself from staring. Almond eyes that tipped up like a cat’s were painted with gold and lined in kohl, and his high cheekbones glittered in the light with some sort of incadescent powder. His auburn hair was tied up in tiny braids threaded with topaz, and when he turned his head, they made a delicate tinkling noise, like the sweetest of bells. He looked as if he had once been fit in his younger days, but though easy living had softened his body, it had done nothing to mar his fine features.

In short, he looked nothing like the villain Daine had imagined terrorizing the Tortallan countryside in a secret war he would not declare.

To the emperor’s left sat Kaddar. If Kaddar’s dress could not hold a candle to his uncle, it did not matter, for his youth gave him a different radiance that made Daine sigh. He sat erect in a tunic of white silk that set off his dark beauty, and a fine gold torque set with a massive ruby rested around his neck. Kaddar was only the emperor’s nephew, she knew, but the slim, proud look of a jungle cat seemed to be a family trait. Next to the two royals, at the emperor’s right hand, sat the Black Mage, looking bored already. It could not escape her notice how much more physically imposing he seemed than Ozorne and Kaddar, swathed all in black, with his long legs stretched out in front of him as if he attended a lecture rather than greet a foreign delegation. She did not always get on well with King Jonathan’s advisors, but none of them were as arrogant and unmannered as the Black Mage, she was sure. As if he sensed her eyes on him, he turned to look in her direction, and Daine quickly looked away. Her behavior on the banks of the river already filled her with a nagging guilt that she had failed the delegation. He was a boor, but a well-positioned one, and she refused to rise to his bait anymore. For the rest of the trip, Daine vowed, she would ignore the Black Mage as if they had never met.

“Veralidaine Sarrasri, and the dragon Skysong,” the herald intoned. Daine startled, then approached the throne, Kitten at her side. She curtsied low, holding her place without a single wobble, and was grateful again for Thayet’s avid coaching. 

“Well met, Veralidaine,” said the emperor. Daine straightened, casting a look at Prince Kaddar from beneath her lashes as she did. He eyed her appreciatively, though he tried to be as discreet as she. Daine swallowed hard, trying to keep her heart out of her throat. Zek, as if sensing her nervousness, poked her lightly with one of his claws, and it was enough to bring her back to herself. She focused entirely on the emperor, ignoring the beautiful prince, and spoke.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Daine intoned, “I am honored to be among the jewels of your court.” The words were rote, standard for a commoner of high status to speak to an emperor of Carthak. Ozorne smiled, leaning back.

“But you are more than a jewel if you can heal our birds,” he replied. “And considerably more if half the rumors of you are true.” 

“I don’t know about any rumors, but as for your birds, just point me to them[ them], Your Majesty,” she said. “I’ve never met one that didn’t want to be healed by me. Lady Alanna taught me, and she’s the finest teacher any could ask for.” The emperor looked about to reply, but the Black Mage cut him off.

“That is impossible, given that all the knowledge of wild magic is contained in our university library. The finest knight, perhaps, but the finest teacher? I think not.” Daine shot him a look, trying to keep the pure hatred from her eyes and assuredly failing. Master Salmalin merely smiled, his face guileless.  

“If I heal a body, it stays healed. That’s what she taught me, and I think that’s enough,” Daine said, keeping her voice even. She could feel the eyes of Duke Gareth and Lord Martin on her back, could practically hear their thoughts shouting at her to get away from the emperor as fast as possible. She was not schooled in courtly arts. She did not know the deft ways to answer questions that offered information while concealing one’s intentions. 

The emperor looked askance at the mage, and Daine thought she saw a flicker of anger. But it disappeared in a moment. “Master Salmalin, you insult our guest,” Ozorne said. “The tales of this young woman’s abilities, and not a one mentions her failing to heal a patient. She is the right person to heal our birds, and we will be most grateful to see it.” Zek popped out from under her hair and chittered his own admonition to the mage. Kitten, feeling very ignored, added her own voice, croaking once to bring the black opal chain around Master Numair’s neck to life, making the man himself look as if he were glowing. The mage’s eyes grew wide, and he sat back in his chair. The dragon sniffed, and Daine smiled. Perhaps you think you know all there is to know about wild mages, she thought triumphantly, but I’m the only one who knows about dragon magic. 

“How marvelous!” the emperor said with a laugh, and for a moment Daine could not tell if he were laughing at Numair or was simply surprised by Kitten’s display. The dark look cast by the Black Mage suggested he could not tell either, and in that Daine took secret pleasure. Serves him right, for making us all wait and being so rude, she thought. “My dear,” the emperor continued, “you are a most extraordinary young lady, with most extraordinary friends. You will permit us to get to know one another better in the coming days, hm? It will be foremost among our mind until it happens.” Daine blushed, and curtsied again. 

“Whatever Your Majesty desires,” she said. Emperor Ozorne smiled at her and nodded, and duly dismissed, Daine turned to take her place among the crush of nobles. She heard a sharp inhale of breath, and tried not to smile. It had been Prince Kaddar, she was sure, and once more Daine sent out a silent thanks to Thayet for dressing her well. 

It was only as she reached the bottom of the steps that she realized as soon as she had vowed to never rise to the Black Mage’s bait again, he had irked her in the very next moment, goading her into nearly losing her compsure in front of Carthak’s monarch. Was this what Alanna and the others had been warning her about? Dangerous, indeed, Daine thought, and wished not for the first time she were back home, safe among the kind faces of her home than here in this foreign land, meeting emperors and trying to ignore powerful mages.

Daine had been one of the last to be introduced to the emperor, and at last the party began in earnest. The Emperor of Carthak spared no expense, it seemed, to impress his foreign cousins, and Daine realized all too soon that it would be nothing like the balls back home. The room was overly warm, though from the breeze that drifted in or from the efforts of the emperor’s mages, Daine could not say. Wine flowed freely as young slave girls threaded in and out of the crush of nobility, making sure goblets never went empty, while more slaves played seductive music on pipes and stringed instruments Daine had never seen before. A steady drum beat pulsed through the room and the music seemed to speak to the people, as those who danced undulated in mesmerizing rhythms, pressing close to their partners in a way northern propriety never would have allowed. Outside the palace the Carthakis were a modest and reserved people, but that clearly did not apply to the nobility within its walls. The Carthaki men imitated the emperor’s dress—pale imitations, of course—but to a man they wore the short tunic of the south, showing off their legs as readily as the Carthaki women exposed their necklines. A dress that plunged down her back was a trifle, compared to what Carthak offered. Indeed, across the room she spied a female mage in a white robe wearing a gown that was cut so low and tight, Daine almost felt sorry for the fabric responsible for restraining such an ample bosom. The woman was light-skinned, a northerner from the looks of her, and intensely beautiful, with angelic features and blonde curling hair arranged artfully in the style of the Carthaki nobles. “Lady Varice Kingsford, the most Gifted hostess to ever live,” Alanna said with not a hint of sarcasm before being pulled into a conversation with the emir and emira of the eastern Carthaki rice fields about trade rights. Daine crossed her arms over her own modest chest, sighing with envy. A fine gown was one thing to give a woman confidence, she thought, but looking like the Goddess herself probably didn’t hurt either.

Soon, the whole of her delegation fell into conversations that no doubt had simple words with more meanings than Daine would ever tease out, and she found herself standing alone. Two-leggers are fair odd, Daine thought. Always making things harder when they’re already hard enough. Zek agreed, then chirped when his stomach let out a loud grumble. Food time? he asked hopefully. Daine smiled and surveyed the room. A large banquet table was piled high with all manner of fruits, sweetmeats, and canapes. She asked Zek what he would like, and he pointed to the fruit, so Daine took the whole bowl, taking care that no one was watching her do it, before retreating to a small hidden alcove where there was a couch for them to settle into. Being around this many people, minding her manners so carefully, it was all so different from home, and she was growing tired. The alcove afforded her some privacy, but also a good view of the dance floor, as well as the emperor’s dais. She could see him up there, bored, conversing every now and then but mostly nibbling on the same fare as Zek, who was popping grapes into his mouth with delight. Daine considered the man she had just met. He was imposing, to be sure, but he seemed more a kindly uncle than an evil ruler. Could he really be the one responsible for the attacks on Tortall? Opening the barriers to let monsters like Stormwings get through and terrorize her friends?

The thought of the barriers made Daine think of the Carthaki mages, and then of one mage in particular. There was something funny going on between the emperor and his most trusted advisor. Everyone had said they were childhood friends, inseparable as boys, almost to the point of impropriety. They had gone to university together, and while they had both gathered reputations as womanizers, neither had entertained a serious relationship, to the point that the emperor appointed his nephew as heir, seeming in no hurry to beget one himself. But now, something drove the two friends apart. Something about ruling the country? No, the emperor was the emperor, and if Daine knew anything about mages, it was that they cared more about their books than the workings of a country. Something like an argument over how to use magic, then? It made sense, the more she thought on it. The Black Mage seemed like a man who sought knowledge for its own sake, consequences be damned. Alanna had told Daine enough stories about her twin brother, Thom, for Daine to know what that looked like. Could the Black Mage have opened the gates to the Divine Realms against the wishes of the emperor? He certainly seemed a vile enough man to start a war, unlike Emperor Ozorne…

Daine shook her head, shifting her gaze from the emperor to the dancing. Hadn’t she promised to not make herself crazy over politics? Seeking distraction, she tried to spy the prince, wishing he might stumble across her and rescue her from this whole affair, and then discarding the useless thought. No one was going to come find her, and not the least because she was hiding in a corner. From her vantage point, she saw the wine had begun claim the party, and that now when the slaves filled a noble’s cup with wine, the noble invariably followed it with a discreet caress that seemed an invitation for more. What sort of kingdom is this, she wondered, where folk act at a court function worse than animals in heat? Daine watched as a man—the emir Alanna had been speaking to earlier, she realized, though now absent his wife—accepted a cup of wine from a female slave, took a sip, then brazenly slipped his hand under her tunic. Daine blushed, looking away. This is not Tortall, she reminded herself, and I don’t know everything about Carthaks and their culture. Maybe it was okay for married men to take slaves to bed. The slave had not seemed perturbed by the emir in the least. In fact, she had looked at him seductively, inviting him to do more, and rather than embarrass Daine, the thought had thrilled her, and that was what made her blush. She bit her lip, wondering what it would be like if Prince Kaddar offered her wine, and held her gaze with his intense dark eyes while he trailed his fingertips up her leg, seeking that secret place between her thighs that throbbed with heat…

Kitten started whistling, first high and then low, punctuated by sharp trills. Daine snapped out of her daydream, looking around, and saw the air shift slightly. She scowled. 

“You may as well get yourself unhidden,” Daine said. She was too upset at feeling like she had been caught doing something wrong to be polite. “Kitten doesn’t much care for invisibility spells, and she’s like to bite if you keep it up much longer.”

“Indeed?” replied a familiar voice. There was a ripple in Daine’s vision, and of a sudden she found herself alone in the alcove with the Emperor Ozorne. She gasped and stood up suddenly, aware that she needed to sketch a curtsy or bow or do _something,_ but she only succeeded in dumping the fruit bowl from her lap, sending plums and oranges rolling toward the feet of the emperor.

“Odd’s bobs!” Daine cried, dropping to her knees to pick up the offending pieces of fruit. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, I didn’t know it was you, and Kitten gets so upset when there’s magic around that’s not out in the open, and—“ 

Emperor Ozorne chuckled, and to Daine’s great surprise, bent down to help her collect the fruit. Zek had joined in as well, and when Ozorne retrieved the grapes, Zek chittered. The emperor smiled, looking to Daine.

“He likes these?” he asked. Daine shut her mouth, certain she was gawping like a country girl, and nodded silently. The emperor offered Zek the grapes, and the marmoset popped them merrily in his mouth, forgetting right away that he had been helping clean up. Daine grabbed the last orange, putting it back in the bowl and was saved from trying to figure out the protocol of rising before a kneeling monarch, as the emperor stood, dusted off his knees and held out his hand to help her to her feet. She took it gratefully, and when he motioned for her to join him on the couch, she did so. 

“A marvelous creature, this one,” Ozorne said, gesturing to Kitten. His eyes gleamed with admiration. “She really can sense magic?” Daine nodded as Kitten trundled over to the emperor, sniffing at the gems on his hands once more. 

“She can do magic herself, too. She would have broken down your invisibility spell after a bit, if you’d insisted on keeping it up.” Ozorne’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Our magic is not so easily broken,” the emperor said, and Daine bit her lip. 

“No, of course, Your Imperial Majesty. I meant, she usually tries to break them down.” The smile returned to Ozorne’s face. For once, Kitten did not chastise Daine for the lie, and Daine silently thanked the dragon for it. Daine knew very well that there wasn’t a mage alive who could resist Kitten’s magic, but Lord Martin would go into fits if he heard that she had tried to correct the emperor about it. She cast about for a safer topic, and her eyes landed on the dais, where the emperor still clearly sat, eating grapes with none of the enthusiasm Zek still lustily displayed. “Er, begging your pardon, Your Imperial Majesty, but how are you, well, here and there?”

“Ah, you do not know the technique? That is good, I suppose, for I would hate for it to become common knowledge, and spoil my little game,” Emperor Ozorne said, looking over at his own self on the dais. “It is a simulacrum.”

“A simul—what?” The emperor smiled, more geniunely than he had before, and Daine was struck by how much younger it made him seem. 

“I had heard you were charming, Veralidaine, but I had not expected to be the recipient of it.” Daine returned the smile with confusion, unsure what she had said that was so funny. “A simulacrum is copy, of sorts. One builds an image of themselves, gives it a man’s face, a man’s characteristics. It is knowledge not given to many mages, which is a fortunate thing, when one has need of being in two places at once.” Daine looked to the dais again, where it did appear the emperor was still sitting, eating grapes and waving off the occasional noble who came to pay homage. 

“Glory,” she breathed. Ozorne waved a hand, and a glittering curtain obscured the emperor’s image, so that the one in the alcove with her was the only one in the room. 

“But why use one of those simla—simul—“

“Simulacrum,” he supplied kindly.

“Simulacrum,” Daine repeated, fixing it in her memory. “Why use one at all?”

“Ah, well. Ruling can be quite tedious, at times, and I enjoy the moments I may walk about in disguise, as it were, and hear my subjects speak unaffected by my presence. I value their true thoughts greatly, though I do not always have the privilege of hearing them.”

That did not sound anything like what Daine knew about the monarch, but knew better than to say it. Instead, she frowned, a question on her lips.

“Can—“

“The Black Mage do it?” he asked, not bothering to hide the derision in his voice. “No, as I am sure you well know, the black robe only means certain scholars made a decision to elevate a man, whether he deserves it or not. It bears very little on actual learning. My vizier may boast of his accomplishments, but they pale in comparison to those of his emperor.” 

“Why keep him around, then?” Too late, she realized she had spoken to him as easily as she would have King Jonathan, with the open familiarity that was the hallmark of Corus. But the emperor merely chuckled, patting her hand.

“Ah, Veralidaine, it does bring me joy to speak to one plainly, especially one so lovely. Master Salmalin is a popular man, and powerful, though not so much as myself. I dislike lowering myself in your eyes, but I have very little control over what is done in this kingdom. Even if I thought to remove him from his position, it would not be my decision.”

“Begging your pardon, Your Imperial Majesty, but isn’t it your kingdom?”

“In name only,” he replied. “Does my cousin King Jonathan have free rein to do or say as he likes? No, he is beholden to his councils, as am I. Even now, he does not come meet me face to face, and sends a delegation to make decisions for him.” It felt like a jibe, but Daine could not tell. King Jonathan would have come if it would have done any good, she thought. 

“But they’re just your advisors,” Daine persisted. “Surely you do not have to do as they say.” Ozorne laughed.

“Ah, my dear, you have such sweet vision for the world. I must lay low your illusions yet again, for alienating one’s nobles is the surest path to destruction. There is always someone who thinks they could do the job better, and it helps to keep those people as friends and not enemies.” Daine nodded, thinking about the rebellion he had incited in Tortall, but she kept her mouth closed. Duke Gareth had been clear: no mentioning any of Carthak’s attempts to force Tortall into war. 

“Can it do magic, the simulacrum?” Daine asked, proud to have not tripped over the word. Ozorne looked thoughtful, then shook his head. 

“No, that would be quite impossible. The chains needed to hold the magic are too complex. A good mage—a very good mage, mind—would be able to notice that my simulacrum has no Gift. But the only one who is able to do it happens to be sitting right here. But enough talk of theoretical magic. Are you not enjoying the party? A young woman dressed so well, I should think you would be standing in the middle of the floor, making all the other women jealous.” Daine blushed, shifting in her seat. The emperor was a handsome man, and the emperor, for glory’s sake, and Daine still had not learned how to accept a compliment. “I have even heard that my nephew is most disappointed to have not earned a dance with you.” 

The thought took her by surprise. “Surely you jest!” Daine exclaimed, and Ozorne laughed softly as her gaze shot out over the floor, where the prince led a Carthaki noble’s daughter in a newer northern-style dance that had just arrived this season. Daine had tried to learn it back home, and bungled the steps every time to the point the dancing master proclaimed the Lioness was no longer the worst dancer in the realm and awarded the dubious title to Daine instead. The memory made her sigh as she watched the graceful southern woman spin around the dance floor with the prince, as if they had both known the steps their whole lives. 

“As I thought,” the emperor said. “You should not be cooped up in a corner speaking of nothing with a man like me. Go, prevail on my hospitality.” The prince and his partner spun out of her view, and Ozorne’s mention of rejoining the party made Daine think about the emir and the slave once more. She shook her head vigorously, turning back to the emperor, hoping her blush did not show in the low light.

“Please, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said. “It’s not—may we speak of your birds? I would not be able to enjoy myself if I heard they are still sick. I mean—are they?” She bit her lip, nervous now to be asking something of the emperor. “It’s just that I thought it was why I was here, and yet I have heard nothing about them since I have arrived.”

Ozorne looked surprised. “They are ill, but you have traveled so far today, I thought you might prefer to enjoy yourself a bit before going straight to work. But if you insist, I can take you there in the morning—” The thought of staying another moment at a banquet where married men canoodled with slaves and the prince danced with beautiful ladies made her stomach clench.

“If they’re sick, I’d rather see them now.” The emperor regarded her for a long moment, his amber eyes searching her face, and Daine swallowed. Once again, she had spoken to him as if she were in Corus. She was too tired to be trusted to speak to heads of state, let alone ones that could be Tortall’s enemies! “If it pleases Your Majesty, that is,” she added, hoping it was enough to show the proper respect. Ozorne chuckled, patting her hand.

“You are something special, Veralidaine,” the emperor remarked. Again, Daine shook her head.

“I’m nothing special, Your Imperial Majesty. Just Daine.”

“Nonsense, on both counts,” he replied. “A beautiful woman requires a beautiful name. Veralidaine. Since you have so magnanimously insisted, we go to see my birds.” 

The emperor stood, and Daine hesitated, realizing the trap she had set for herself. She had not thought he would want to take her himself! She couldn’t well tell him to send her along with someone else, but she did not think Duke Gareth would approve of her spending the entire evening alone with the Emperor Ozorne. She was not sure she wanted to be anywhere alone with the emperor either. He seemed kindly enough, but the way he had said her name just then had made her wary. And what if I say the wrong thing, and get us all in trouble? What if I’ve already said the wrong thing? she thought, a cold pit in her stomach. But the emperor offered her his arm, and there was nothing for her to do but to place her hand on his forearm, as she had seen the ladies do back home. 

“I should tell someone where I’m going though. I was told to stay with the delegation,” she said. She stood on her toes to try and see any of the Tortallan ambassadors, but all she saw were the richly dressed backs of Carthaki nobles. The emperor snapped his finger, and a slave appeared at his elbow.

“Tell the Duke Gareth of Naxen that Veralidaine has accompanied me to see my birds. And send for Lindhall Reed, I would like him to attend as well.” The slave bowed deeply and rushed off to do the emperor’s bidding. “There, now, you see?” Ozorne said, turning to Daine. “I hope you do not mind if I veil us as we go. Otherwise my ministers will wonder where we are going, or worse, try to follow.” What could she say to that? Kitten chirped, leaning against Daine’s leg in an offering of support, while Zek scampered up her arm and settled on her shoulders, not interested in the least at being left behind.

Daine fixed a smile to her face. She was not totally alone, after all. And if Lindhall Reed were to be there, then perhaps she would be safe after all. “Of course not, Your Imperial Majesty.” The emperor waved his hand, and a copy of him split off and walked back to the dais, taking its seat and looking bored once more. Daine tried not to stare at how lifelike it all seemed, and nearly tripped as she followed the emperor to a small door that led them to a dimly lit hallway and away from the crowd.


	6. Chapter 6

Numair watched the pair disappear from sight, a frown on his face. Lady Varice held his arm while she spoke animatedly to one of the Tortallan delegation—the duke, he remembered—inundating the poor man with details of how she had constructed the confections on the table using her Gift. Numair respected her talents, in the way he respected all magic, but Varice was a simple woman, and held little interest for him. He had long stopped listening to her once he had noticed Ozorne missing from his chair, and it had taken only a little prodding with his Gift to find the man curled up in an alcove with the one girl with whom Numair did care to converse. Then they had left, her hand on Ozorne’s arm as he led her Mithros only knew where. Alone with the emperor, and it was only her first banquet in Carthak. She works fast, Numair thought with cynicism, but his common sense told him she was naive enough to not realize what it meant, following Ozorne without an escort. Numair did, of course. He clenched his jaw, considering where they might have gone when Prince Kaddar approached them. Varice gave a cursty while the duke bowed low. Numair merely dipped his head, too preoccupied to conform to etiquette. If the prince noticed the slight, he did not let on. Instead, the young man addressed the duke.

“I seek your Veralidaine, Duke Gareth. I would do my duty as her escort to show her the finer points of a Carthaki banquet,” he said. 

The duke made to reply, but Numair interjected. “A bit late in the evening to be adhering to your duties, is it not?” The prince’s smile faltered slightly. It was an unfair remark, of course. The prince had danced with only one young lady, out of respect for her father, but Numair knew the boy had spent much of his time looking for someone else. He had not expected it to be Daine, but then, he was not surprised. She had turned every head in the room with that dress that had dipped right to the top of her perfectly rounded bottom. Prince Kaddar was her age, and her escort. He’d mark the boy as a fool if he did not try to take advantage of both those things. 

“I did not wish to trouble the duke with my own desires of the evening,” Prince Kaddar said, ever the diplomat. “But you are right, as the hour grows late, I am failing in my duty and now seek aid.” The duke looked surprised.

“I have not seen her in some time,” Duke Gareth said. 

“Ah, that is disappointing,” Prince Kaddar replied, turning to look out over the crush of nobles. “Perhaps I shall ask the Lioness if she’s seen her, then.”

“You won’t find Daine here,” Numair said shortly. Both men turned to look at him, Duke Gareth with concern, Prince Kaddar with frustration.

“Whyever not?” Kaddar asked, while at the same time the duke said, “She was told to stay with the delegation.” Numair turned away from them, appearing disinterested, when in truth he was frustrated himself. There were any number of places Ozorne could have taken her if his intentions were benign, and many, many more he could have taken her were they not. He could run himself ragged all over the palace looking for the two of them, especially if Ozorne had shielded them magically, as Numair knew he would. 

“I’m sure she’s somewhere around here,” Varice said to Kaddar. “Numair has been with me all evening, he’d have no reason to know anything about her—“

“She left with the emperor a few moments ago,” he said. Varice’s beautifully practiced smile never wavered, but Numair could feel her nails digging slightly into his arm. Duke Gareth swiveled his head to the dais in confusion, where it appeared that the emperor still sat. If the old man did not know about simulacra, the Black Mage was disinclined to educate him. 

“Why on earth would she do that?” Duke Gareth murmured, almost to himself. As if on cue, a slave appeared near the duke, bowing low. 

“Begging your pardon, nobility,” the slave said. “I am to deliver a message that the lady Veralidaine has accompanied the Imperial Majesty to the aviary, where she will heal his Imperial Majesty’s birds.” 

“At this hour?” Duke Gareth frowned. “Should I be concerned, Master Salmalin?”

“It is what you brought her for, is it not?” the Black Mage replied. “He is the emperor, and they are his birds. I am sure he is in a hurry to see them well, nothing more.” The words did little to assuage the duke, who excused himself politely and went off on his own search, no doubt to confer with the Lioness or another Tortallan dignitary about whether they should take offense to this maneuver by the emperor.

The prince turned to him, looking cross. “Your manners are lacking, Black Mage,” he said. “We are trying to build a peace, not throw the whole delegation into a fit over their animal girl.”

“A charming term.” Numair said. “Have you used it with her yet?”  

The prince’s cheeks turned red. “I meant their girl who works with animals. Their wild mage.” 

Numair chuckled, patting the young prince on the back in mock sympathy. “Look to your own manners, boy. You’ll have trouble getting her into bed with the phrase ‘animal girl’ on your tongue.”

“Numair!” Varice admonished. “Prince Kaddar is heir to the throne, and would not risk a girl’s reputation for sport. Unlike some men I could name.” The poisoned look she gave was not lost on him, though he cared very little for it.

“Varice, my dear,” Numair said, extricating himself from her grasp, “your reputation was quite well ruined before I ever took a stab at it. Now, if you will both excuse me.” 

As Numair turned on his heel to leave, Varice hissed after him, “This is a political function where your presence is demanded. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Wherever I please, naturally,” he replied over his shoulder, striding away. The crowd parted before him as easily as summer wheat, none wanting to stand in the path of the Black Mage.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the holiday delay, but we should be back to our regularly scheduled weekly posting!
> 
> Edit: A few last minute changes to make the next scenes, you know, make sense.

The same globes that had illuminated the banquet hall glowed along the walls as Daine walked in step with the emperor. As they made their way through the palace, nobility and slaves alike bowed to him, and she realized he must have dropped the invisibility spell as they had left the party. Looking at him from beneath her lashes, she saw that he moved with grace, erect and proud, as if his dominion was unchallenged and completely certain. Of course the emperor of Carthak would feel that way, she thought, and the words rang in her head. Two years ago she had been a wolf girl, sniffing out her next meal, and here she was, her hand on the gilded arm of the emperor of a warring nation, barely bothered by his use of the Gift. 

Life had a way of being silly, sometimes.

“My halls amuse you?” the emperor asked. Daine did not realize that she had laughed until he spoke.

“I am pleased to be in your company, on the way to heal your birds at last,” she said. Kitten snorted, and Daine shot her a look. Ozorne did not seem to notice, patting Daine’s arm as he led her down another massive hallway. The walls here were lined with a procession of colossal reliefs, and as the light played off of them, Daine realized they were made entirely of gold. Was there no end to the opulence? Daine wondered, trying to peer closer at the figures on the wall. Images of violence and chaos adorned the walls, the history of Carthak’s bloody empire expansion, on which the delegation had been sure to educate her. She tore her gaze from the wall, looking down at her feet.

“I am pleased to be in your company as well, Veralidaine. Now, as to the problem. The new aviary was finished last spring, and since then, my sweet birds have not been the same. At first all was well, but then their appetites are started falling off and I noticed a palsy in some of their heads. Within two weeks, those who take sick die. I know some about bird medicine, but not enough to save them. Lindhall knows quite a bit as well, which is why I have asked him to join us. But nothing we do seems to help. Indeed, there he is now.” 

At the end of the hall, Daine could just make out the tall mage, standing serenely by a large pair of white doors that had been inlaid with green painted vines that stretched up toward the heavens. As they approached, Daine could not help staring upward in awe, wondering just how big this aviary could be, for she could not even see in the dim light where the doors ended. As Lindhall bowed to the emperor and turned, yellow-green fire sparked from his fingertips as he used his Gift to push the doors open, and she wondered no more. Behemoth slabs of sandstone groaned, the hollow sound echoing into the vast hall behind them. Then he clapped twice, and the darkness illuminated the antechamber that preceded the aviary.

“Oh, glory,” Daine gasped, staring at the walls as Kitten trilled her approval. If the hallway preceding this place had been all about the harsh edge of battle, the chamber in which they now stood belied nothing but the beauty of life. All around them, fabulously multi-colored birds were immortalized in stone, their likenesses spreading wings of rubies, emeralds and sapphires edged in tiny strips of gold. Whoever had crafted this wonder designed their eyes with flecks of obsidian imbued with the tiniest touch of magic. As a result, the glittering creatures had a canny look, as if they could beg for seed just as well as birds made of feather and bone. Daine moved toward the walls, tracing a golden beak with her fingertip. “Your Imperial Majesty, this is—wondrous.” 

“We thought it well enough, when we designed it,” Ozorne replied, surveying the mosaics coolly. “But nothing could take the place of a real bird. Indeed, one finds after a time that true beauty is found only in the flesh.” Though she could not disagree that nothing could take the place of a real bird, something about his phrasing seemed odd. Before she could think more on it, the emperor continued. “Come along now, Veralidaine. The aviary is just ahead.” Daine took one last long look at the wall, sure that it was the finest thing ever made by human hands that she would ever see. The birds are waiting, she reminded herself, and returned to the emperor’s side. Instead of offering her arm, he put his hand at the small of her back, guiding her gently forward.

As his palm brushed her bare skin, she felt the blood rush from her face and her entire body go cold, as if she had been dropped into a Gallan lake. Of a sudden, Daine realized that she stood in a dimly lit hallway in a ludicrous dress that bared not only her shoulders, but her entire back all the way to the curve of her bum, and that she stood alone with the emperor of Carthak. She retained very little of Lord Martin’s lessons about Carthaki etiquette, but she was certain none of this was acceptable. 

“Shall I open the doors, Your Imperial Majesty?” Lindhall asked. Daine released a breath she had not realized she was holding. Not alone, she reminded herself. Lindhall Reed was a friend of Alanna’s, and any friend of Alanna’s would not allow any harm to befall Daine. She tried to ignore the emperor’s hand as they approached another set of doors, these ones made from translucent glass etched with emerald vines. 

“I am a fool,” Ozorne said suddenly, taking his hands from her to rake them through his hair in frustration. The topaz gems clicked together, like the sound of ice falling from the trees in melting winter.  

“Your Imperial Majesty?” Daine replied. Where his hand had been, her skin felt cold.

“It is so late, they shall all be asleep,” Ozorne continued. He was clearly upset, his amber eyes darkening. “We could use light globes, of course; they are used to that when I read here at night. But to disturb their rest, even to care for the sick…” He trailed off, cursing. For a moment, Daine saw him not as the emperor, but as a man, concerned for his pets. It gave her all the courage she needed to cast off the moment of strangeness from his touch and become exactly what she had traveled all this way to be: a healer.

“You leave all that to me, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said firmly. She hesitated, then placed a hand on his arm, as she would do for anyone concerned about their animals. He turned toward her, and she smiled a comforting smile. “I won’t frighten them, and I’ll make sure them that are sick don’t get any worse. I’m here to help them and heal them, and I plan to do just that.” Ozorne looked down at her hand on his arm, then covered it with his own. 

“We trust that you will, Veralidaine,” he murmured. His eyes met hers, and Daine felt her stomach sink, like a rock falling to the bottom of a dark pond. “But I cannot stay and watch. You understand? To see them so ill, and to be able to do nothing…you will not think less of me?” 

“Of course not, sire. I know how it feels, to be helpless when a loved one is sick.” Daine heard her voice as if from far away. This was the man who had been ravaging her homeland for years, and now he stood so close she could smell the cloying scent of his perfume, a mixture of cloves and oranges and musk, and she was reassuring him. Ozorne brushed his fingers across hers, and a shiver crawled down her spine. 

“Master Lindhall will retrieve you anything you should require. Thank you, Veralidaine. We are in your debt.” Ozorne released her hand as Lindhall sketched a rune in the air, the yellow-green of his Gift illuminating the vines on the doors. They swung open, and Daine sighed in wonder. Inside the aviary, it was dark as the night should be, and winking stars peered through the canopy of the trees. She breathed deeply, inhaling humid air that smelled strongly of the day’s heat, of southern cypress trees and damp undergrowth, and through it all, the sweet scent of the emperor’s birds. From within, the faint sound of water splashing against rocks told her that a stream ran somewhere through the palace oasis. She wondered how far it went, and turned to ask Lindhall, only to see him bowing deeply to the emperor, and that they both waited for her to do the same.

“Oh!” she cried, sinking into a curtsy that wobbled more than it did not, but held nonetheless. Zek squeaked, hanging onto her curls, and Kitten chirped, making her own dragon’s bow.

The emperor chuckled softly and murmured, “Charming, indeed.” Daine looked up to see him turn and leave with a smile on his face, vanishing from view as he passed through the behemoth white doors at the end of the hall.

As she rose, she caught Lindhall considering her, a worried frown marring his brow. “Daine,” he began, entering the aviary ahead of her, “You will permit me to give you a word of warning?” 

“Of course, Master Lindhall,” she replied, following behind.

“Just Lindhall, please,” he said. His Tortallan familiarity set her at ease, and Daine smiled in the darkness. He snapped, and the light globes that bordered the glass doors illuminated a paradise. Tall tropical trees stretched upward—toward a ceiling made of glass, Daine noted, and not the actual night sky—while pathways twined in front of them into broad-leafed underbrush that boasted flowers as tiny as her fingernails to those the size of her outspread hand. The warmth of the aviary suffused her skin, and her curls became so weighted with damp that Zek boldly left his hiding place to jump onto Lindhall’s arm and take residence on the mage’s shoulders instead. Daine could just see a stream disappearing into the shadows. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could hear the birds in her mind, the strongest ones first, and then smaller voices of the weak. Their illness made her dizzy, and she clamped her teeth shut, wishing she had eaten more at the banquet while also regretting what she had eaten. “It is the emperor, you see,” Lindhall continued. “He shows his best side, when it comes to his birds. He possesses…other sides.”  
Daine might have laughed at that, but the thread of ill health whispering through her mind was starting to make her feel ill herself. “I thank you for your words, Lindhall, but trust me when I say I have certainly had forewarning about, well, everything.” And she was not likely to forget who the emperor was, not after seeing imperial claws hooked into Tortall for two years. Lindhall wore a troubled expression, and Daine added quickly, “Except you, of course. Alanna seems fair fond of you, and that’s good enough for me. Truly though, I just want to heal the emperor’s birds and then go back to my room and not look at anyone or touch anything for the rest of the trip.” She thought he still looked somewhat concerned, but the older mage smiled, nodding his head. 

“Then I shall not stand in your way.” Lindhall took a seat on the bench, stroking Zek’s fur, and Kitten hopped up to join them. Looking around, Daine saw the immense bole of a tree nearby, and wandered over to it. It would be the perfect place to curl into while she worked. She touched the bark of the trunk, feeling the cool smoothness. The light was dim here, but she would not need her eyes, not for this. Turning back to Lindhall, she said, “Are you sure you want to stay? It will be fair boring.” 

“I am sure the Lioness would prefer that you were not alone. I shall stay,” Lindhall replied. 

Daine nodded, then settled down into the bole of the tree. She closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath.

“That won’t be necessary, Master Lindhall.” A new voice cut through the aviary, deep and commanding, and all too familiar. Daine’s eyes flew open, and she gasped. Above her stood the Black Mage, staring down at her with something like amusement. “I would watch her work. You may return to the party.”

“You!” she hissed. From where she sat, he was impossibly tall and broad, and swathed in black he seemed like a demon wrought from the shadows. Only the fact that he had unbuttoned his dress shirt to stave off the heat of the aviary made him seem human. She jumped to her feet, anger mixing with something else, something that made her insides turn molten. A blush creeped into her cheeks, and Daine cursed her traitorous body. Why could she not keep her composure around this man? What was it about him that made her respond so? Kitten whistled, jumping between the two of them. The young dragon croaked at the Black Mage, her scales turning red with emotion. Daine wanted to do much the same, but Alanna’s warnings to behave held her back. She could not be the reason the peace talks fell apart, could not fail the king and queen after they had put so much trust in her. Swallowing her pride, Daine sketched a small curtsy, casting her eyes down. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but you surprised me.” 

“As well as myself, Numair,” Lindhall said. “What graces us with the presence of the emperor’s vizier at this advanced hour?”

The Black Mage smiled, white teeth flashing against his swarthy skin. Though he addressed Lindhall, he did not take his eyes off of Daine. “Like I said, I am here to watch the girl work. The famous wild mage, about to heal the emperor’s birds all at once? Were they people, I imagine such a feat would be near impossible. Birds, of course, are much smaller, so perhaps more attainable but all the same, it should be a marvel. There is very little that would keep me away.” Daine looked up at him, and in his dark gaze was the same hawkish look from the morning, the look of a predator. He took a step toward her, and Daine stiffened. If he were the predator, then that made her the prey. “It would be rude of my Tortallan cousins to deny me this pleasure, don’t you think?” the mage continued. He spoke like the emperor, meaning more than his words said, but where the emperor’s had turned her cold, the Black Mage’s words made her feel far, far too warm. His very presence was so commanding, so male, it turned her knees to water. No, she thought fiercely, it is the birds. The birds were in her mind, and their illness weighed on her, making her weak.

“Numair,” Lindhall said, and his tone was stern. “There will be other occasions to observe Mistress Daine at her work, but it is late—“

“And she may require assistance. Forgive me, Lindhall, but my knowledge of wild magic does exceed your own. That is reason enough to make me a good chaperone, don’t you think?” 

“There is not enough reason in existence to commend you as a good chaperone,” Lindhall replied, frowning. The Black Mage laughed, throwing his head back with no reservations, and Daine was struck by how much younger it made him seem. She had thought him as old as Lindhall, at first, but that could not be right, not if Lindhall had been teaching at the university when the emperor and the Black Mage had attended…

Oh, who cared! Daine knew one thing, and that was that she was _not_ going to heal the emperor’s birds, alone with the very man she had been warned to avoid at all costs. “I appreciate your offer, Your Grace, but like I told Master Lindhall, there is nothing to see,” Daine said firmly. 

“Perhaps there is nothing to see for those who have taught you thus far, but I assure you I will have much to look at it.” He grinned wolfishly, and Daine felt her hackles rise.

“I told you before that my teachers are the best,” she said, her words clipped.

“And I told you that is impossible. I am the best,” he replied. Kitten whistled in anger, and Daine’s temper tautened. He could say whatever he wanted about her, but she would not have him insulting her friends!

“What you are, _Your Grace_ , is entirely arrogant, and I do not want or need your help. If you are any sort of gentleman, you will leave.”

“Fortunately, I am nothing of the sort. Now, shall we proceed?”

“You are not staying!” Daine snapped. The Black Mage sobered, staring down at her solemnly. She cursed inwardly, knowing she had crossed a line. Why did he have this effect on her? Alanna was the one with the famous temper, and here Daine was, losing hers every second sentence with this frustrating male. 

“I am sorry to say that I am,” he said.

“No, you are not.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I am not sorry. But as your Tortallan friends have done such a poor job educating you, I shall. Diplomatic courtesy demands that you share your academic knowledge with a fellow scholar such as myself. Therefore, I will stay to see your work. Lindhall, if you would please return to the party and let Mistress Daine’s delegation know she is in my care, I would be most grateful.”

“Oh!” Daine cried, and Kitten let out a keening trill. 

“That’s enough of that,” Numair said, kneeling in front of the dragonet until he was looking her in the eyes. “I will have no more of your tantrums, understand? Go along with Lindhall.” Kitten went from red to blue in an instant, shrinking down with a peep, but not moving. Numair fixed her with his gaze. “Now.” The dragon looked up at Daine, then scampered over to Lindhall, half-hiding behind the older mage’s legs.

“Numair,” Lindhall said, his tone full of warning.

“That will be all, Lindhall. Please take Daine’s wards and see that they are safe as well,” the Black Mage said. His words were like a drawbridge closing. Lindhall drew his mouth into a thin line, then nodded curtly. 

“I shall relay your message to the Lioness, then,” the older mage said, and, avoiding Daine’s gaze, turned on his heel and left the aviary. Zek chirped an apology, while Kitten followed without a sound, her scales odd shade of pale pink that looked like a blush of embarrassment. Daine stared after them, her mouth agape. Kitten did not listen to anyone, and yet there she went, following the orders of the Black Mage as if were the most natural thing in the world. 

The doors to the aviary made a sighing sound as they shut behind the departing mage, and all of a sudden Daine found herself alone with the Black Mage. Her stomach clenched and her head felt fuzzy, the birds’ illness pressing on her like a weight. She closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, then opened them, fixing the mage with a fierce glare. He was imposing in all black, taller than any man had a right to be, and standing this close, she saw that where his shirt exposed his well-muscled chest, a small patch of curling black hair peeked through. Daine remembered an outing with the Riders, when a wrestling contest had broken out among the hardened young men, and she had become acutely aware of just how strong they were, and how small she was. Instinctively, she knew that had the Black Mage been there, he would have bested them all.

 _He’s a dangerous man_ , Alanna’s voice echoed in her mind, and Daine could not deny it. 

But she was filled with thoughts of how he had treated Kitten, how he treated Lindhall, and how he was keeping her from helping the sick creatures she had come to heal. Caution flew to the wind, and her face grew hot. How dare he! she thought furiously.

“You,” Daine said, barely keeping a leash on her anger. She drew herself to her full height, and even though she still had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, she did not waver.  “Why are you here, really? I have done nothing to you, but you insist on following me around and vexing me. And now you’ve been cruel to my dragon, and my friend.” 

Though she had stepped closer to him, Numair ceded no ground. “I was not cruel,” he corrected. “Lindhall is my old mentor, and if he had thought it best that he stay, he would have.” 

“You ordered him to leave!”

“I asked him politely to convey a message to the Lioness, which I expect he is doing as we speak.” 

“That is not what you meant,” Daine spluttered.

“And yet it is what I said,” Numair replied smoothly. 

“And Kitten—“

“Your dragon was having a fit. I corrected her as I would any child. Unless you want her to grow up spoiled?” 

Daine balled her hands into fists. “She was not ‘having a fit,’ she was protecting me.”

“Ah,” Numair said, and his face spread into a slow smile. It was a look Daine knew well, like a cat who had finally cornered the mouse. “So you need protecting, do you? From the vizier of Carthak?”

Warmth suffused Daine’s face as she realized that in her anger, she had stepped into his trap. She could not very well tell him just how much she had been warned against him, lest she insult him and ruin the peace talks. Nor could she say she needed protecting, for that would mean she could not take care of herself, and she was very much alone with him right now. Worse, the smile on his face told her he knew all of this, and was waiting for her to take another misstep.   
Instead, Daine sank to the ground, curling into the bole of the tree. “Fine,” she spat. “If you insist on staying, then if you could be so kind as to not bother me so I can take care of these sick animals, that would be just ever so wonderful.” Numair chuckled, her sarcasm not lost on him, and spread his robe out behind him as he took a seat in the grass.

“As I said before, I would observe only. Pretend I am not even here,” he said.

“Already am,” Daine muttered, then leaned back and closed her eyes. The gods take politics, and all that came with it, she thought fiercely. She was here to heal sick animals, and that is what she would do. Daine breathed deeply, opening up her magic to the birds, and called them to her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason this story is rated M! If you don't want to read about people touching each other, turn back now. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read and commented! I really appreciate all the support!

Numair watched Daine’s small figure against the tree, regarding her closely as she drew on her magic. It had not been his intention to argue with the girl. He had planned only to confirm that she would be spending the rest of the evening in the aviary, without Ozorne, and then return to the party. But when he saw her, the serenity of her face as she sought to call her magic, the scholar in him could not resist the opportunity to see wild magic done for the first time. Wild magic, the myth of the hinterlands, thought by some to barely be real at all, and here was a girl meant to be brimming with it, full of what was supposedly not even real. It would be asking too much, for him to not see it done. And the rest of him, the masculine side, could not resist the opportunity to have her alone. In one day, she had defied him more than any other woman he had ever met, and if he was being truthful with himself, it was as thrilling as the prospect of uncovering a lost art. The mage inhaled deeply, then let the breath out slowly. Steady, he cautioned himself. This girl, this Daine, was like the antelope of the desert, strong and proud, but still skittish and prone to running from danger. He would need a gentle hand to make her his own, and keep her out of Ozorne’s grasp. If she could do even half of the things she was rumored to be capable of, she would be too tempting for that golden bastard to pass up, and Numair would not allow Ozorne even one more scrap of power.

Wingbeats filled the aviary, interrupting his reverie, as hundreds of multicolored birds answered Daine’s silent call, settling all around her. Different melodies of birdsong echoed from every corner as her patients flew to her, and soon every bird that was fit to fly roosted in Daine’s tree. Small finches of every color nestled in her hair, on her shoulders, even in her lap where her hands lay motionless. The girl’s lips parted, and her small pink tongue darted out, licking her lips in concentration. Numair could feel the hum of magic around them, but it was not like the Gift. He saw no colored fire rise from her, but all the same, he knew she was working to heal the birds. Leaning closer, he dipped into his own Gift, bringing it up to his eyes like a lens, and sucked in a breath.

Bright copper fire spread from her like the rays of the sun, the small threads of light connecting to the birds. Her skin glowed with it, and every skein of her hair curled around her, laced with her magic. Mithros, he thought, she looks like something out of a fairy tale. The Banjiku were renowned for their skills with animals, and indeed possessed some semblance of wild magic. But theirs were threadbare robes to Daine’s lush finery. She was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Numair swallowed a throat gone suddenly dry. A bead of sweat dripped down the girl’s throat, and he followed it with his eyes as it traveled to the neckline of her gown. She was trained, but not overly disciplined. Drawing on too much power for the task, he noted, for he could see the toll healing the birds took on her. As the minutes passed, her chest began to rise and fall erratically, the furrow in her brow deepening as the healing came with more difficulty. If the Lioness had been responsible for Daine’s training, then she had done a clumsy job. It angered him, the idea of Daine not knowing how to properly control herself, of having never been properly shown. Before he knew what he was doing, Numair moved closer, careful not to disturb the birds, and slipped his hand into hers. He pulled up a thread of his Gift, and Daine sighed, pulling his power around her as naturally as she might draw a blanket around her shoulders, her brow relaxing as she took the black thread of his magic into herself. The unexpected thrill of seeing the black of his Gift intermingled with her copper fire was so oddly intimate that he felt himself harden with desire. He clenched his jaw, commanding his body to desist, but as he watched the mesmerizing threads of their magic swim over her skin, he knew it was to no avail.

One by one, the birds flew from her hands. The weakest had barely been able to lift their heads, and now they alighted on branches far into the canopy, new life breathed into them by this fascinating young girl. Wild magic, pure and simple, something out of the stories he had heard at university, and now it sat before him, flesh and blood. Daine’s eyelashes fluttered, then opened, blue grey eyes meeting his dark gaze. 

“I did it,” she said, breathless with triumph and exertion. “I don’t know what was making them sick, but I saw it. It was blotting out their fire, making it dim, and I’m sure I’ve never seen that before. Moldy feed, maybe, or…” She bit her lip, thinking. Her hair was disheveled, and sweat soaked her gown, the twilight blue fabric now a dark midnight. It reminded him of that morning, of her standing on the banks of the River Zekoi, dripping wet and defiant. She had been lovely then, but now in the shadows of the aviary, her skin still faintly glowing with the copper of her magic, she was otherworldly. He wanted her beneath him, more than anything, and his fingers itched to run themselves over the places their magic had touched her.

Daine dropped her gaze to her lap where their hands were still entwined. He expected her to be angry, to jerk away.

“You helped me heal them.” Her voice was filled with wonder, and then she ran her thumb over the inside of his palm, sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty, her pulse fluttering at her throat like the wings of a butterfly, and blood roared in his ears.

\---- 

Daine’s eyes widened as she saw the Black Mage’s eyes linger on her mouth, darkening with desire, and as he leaned in, she opened her mouth to ask him just what he thought he was doing. This close, he smelled of spice and leather, and something deeper, something entirely male. The words stuck in her throat, and suddenly, he was kissing her. Not like those silly pecks the stable boy back home had tried to give her, no. This was something else entirely. Heat spread through Daine’s belly like fire, and dimly, as if from very far, she heard a voice telling her to stop, to run, to be as far from this dangerous man as possible. She tried to listen, put her hands up to stop him, but her fingers found that patch of curling hair at his chest, and it thrilled her to her core. He filled her senses, and Daine could smell him, feel him, taste him, and she felt herself surrendering, like she had with the wolves, to something inside her that was primal and unknown, and that she wanted fiercely. As he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping through her mouth like a brand, she thrust the small voice away and yielded to him.

Her skin burned where he touched, and as he slid his hand down to her breast, her core pulsed deliciously, and she let out a small moan. If this was what all the fuss was about, she understood completely. His thumb brushed over her nipple, and stars danced in her mind, climbing upward. Daine thought her body climbed with them, and if they should reach the top she would burst. He would take her, she knew, and the wild part of her yearned for it desperately. He pulled her beneath him and dragged the hem of her gown upward, his hardness grinding against her center, and suddenly desire mixed with fear.

He is too big! she thought, remembering stallions covering screaming mares, of the Rider girls speaking of their first times, of pain and blood. Then his hand was between her legs, one finger pressing against the tiny sensitive bud within her folds, and all reason fled. She let out a strangled sob.

“Please!” Daine begged, giving voice to what her body wanted. 

But instead of urging him forward, her words stopped the Black Mage short, and he pulled away from her, just barely. His lips still brushed her own as he asked, “What is it?”

The stars in her mind started to fade, and Daine swallowed hard, her body trembling with need. “Please,” she said again, wanting to ask for more, but not knowing how. “I don’t know what—I’ve never—“

“You’ve never…?” he repeated. She blushed fiercely, turning away. By the gods, would he make her say it? But understanding slowly dawned on him, and as it did, he ran a hand over his face. 

“Mithros’s balls!” he cursed, pushing himself off of her and to his feet. “You’re a virgin?” He sounded incredulous. Daine scrambled to her feet after him, pushing the hem of her dress down.

“Is there something wrong with that?” she snapped, the heat of desire giving way to the heat of embarrassment. 

“Of course not,” he replied sharply, “unless you can think of anyone who might mind if you gave me your maidenhead?” His words were as sobering as a cold bath. Slowly, her senses returned to her, and she realized what she had been about to do. How could she be so careless! She had been weak from healing the birds, from the heat of the aviary, from his very nearness that made her knees tremble and her insides turn to fire, and that wild part of her that had gotten her into so much trouble in the past threatened to do the same here. Shame rose up in her throat, threatening to choke her as tears filled her eyes. 

“You took advantage of me,” she said weakly. “They would know you took it by force.” 

If she had ever thought the Black Mage a dangerous man before, it was nothing to what she saw now. His face turned thunderous, and he seemed to gather darkness to him, black fire crackling across his skin. The aviary seemed to shrink, or he seemed to grow, but suddenly Daine felt very, very small. He took a menacing step toward her, and for the first time since they had met, she retreated. But her back was still to the cypress tree, and she found herself trapped against its rough bark as the Black Mage loomed over her.

“I have never forced a woman,” he said, his voice low and full of anger. The birds, sensing her distress, trilled in unison, ready to come to her defense, but Daine held them back with her magic. Don’t! she cried silently. He’ll hurt you! 

She did not know if she spoke to the birds, or to herself. 

“I find that hard to believe,” Daine replied, trying to sound braver than she felt. He wouldn’t hurt me, she tried to reassure herself, not if he wants peace with Tortall. Numair’s scowl deepened.

“You are telling me my attentions were unwanted?” he asked. 

“You—you confused me! And took advantage of me being weak from healing the birds, and—” she cried, “As if I could ever want _that_ from someone like you!” He stepped closer, standing over her, their bodies nearly touching once more, and Daine clenched her teeth against that tightness at her core, the primal rolling heat that still demanded release. Absurdly, she found herself tilting her head slightly backward, hoping his lips would touch hers again.

“I think you are a liar, magelet,” he said softly. “But perhaps I am taking advantage. This,” he continued, tracing a finger where the seam of her dress trailed down her back, sending shivers down her spine, “confused me as well, I confess. I thought you a woman of Tortall, free to do as you would. But I see now you are a child playing at adult games. Do have a care, Mistress Daine. There are many here who are not so chivalrous as I.” 

Daine stiffened, her vision growing hazy. She thought of wolf teeth curling back in a snarl, and she was a wolf herself, full of nothing but animal rage. She flew at him, meaning to rip his flesh, but she bounced off a glittering black shield, hard enough that her bones felt like they were ringing. It jolted her from her anger, and Daine staggered backward, dashing away the tears that made the world blurry. She thought she saw a look of concern on the Black Mage’s face, but rejected the thought immediately. He was a cruel, horrible man, toying with her for his own stupid reasons, and if she had ever had an ounce of good sense, she would get away from him as fast as possible.

“Just what in the Black God’s hell is going on here?” a female voice demanded. Daine whirled toward the entrance of the aviary. There in the doorway stood Alanna the Lioness, blazing with anger, and just behind her, Lindhall Reed, his hands folded into the sleeves of his robe, Kitten at his side. Daine considered the picture she made, her clothing ripped and torn from bird claws, her hair in disarray, tears streaming down her face. She turned to the Black Mage, wondering if he would make this any worse, but he was already strolling toward the door, composed and non-chalant, as if the two of them had been taking tea in the aviary in the small hours of the morning, and that such a thing were perfectly natural.

“What was going on was an instructive lesson in wild magic,” Numair said, “but now that it has concluded, I take my leave.” Alanna’s hand shot out, quicker than Daine had ever seen, and held the Black Mage by the arm. Though he was a full head and shoulders taller than she, the knight was undaunted. 

“It seems like a good deal more than that to me,” Alanna said. Her words were clipped, her anger barely held in check. Numair looked down at where the knight grabbed him, staring at her hand as if it were a gauntlet thrown. Daine knew in another moment, the two mages would summon their Gift, and in the emperor’s aviary, his most precious place. If a single leaf was out of place, the Tortallan delegation would be criminals in a land where public beheadings were still condoned. Failed peace talks would be the least of their worries. 

“It’s nothing,” Daine said quickly, stumbling forward. Kitten ran up to her, sniffing her all over and croaking her displeasure. Daine dashed the tears from her eyes, and straightened, trying to appear at least a little bit like herself. “Really, Alanna, I was healing the birds and it just took more than I thought it would, is all, and the Black—that is, His Grace helped me, or I probably would have fainted and been here all night, which would be no good…“ Daine could hear herself babbling. She bit off her words, giving Alanna a tremulous smile that she hoped was convincing enough to end the matter. The knight regarded her, suspicion etched on every line of her face. Daine held her breath as a long moment passed, but then the knight released the other mage’s arm, giving him a small bow.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I hope you will excuse my temper when it comes to my ward. She means a great deal to us, you see, and we would be rather upset if something should happen to her.” Alanna’s words were pointed, and Daine prayed to any god listening that the Black Mage did not rise to the bait. But he wore an unreadable expression, and Daine looked away, hating him, hating herself because that small wild part of her still wanted him, even now. She did not watch him leave the aviary, disappearing into the shadows, but she knew he was gone when Alanna put a hand to her chin, lifting it so Daine was looking into her eyes.

“I’m fine, Alanna, truly,” Daine said before the knight could ask. Alanna frowned, searching the younger girl’s face. So many questions were on her tongue, but they stood in the emperor’s own aviary. Alanna would bet all the beer in Pirate’s Swoop that these walls had ears, and moreover, Lindhall’s invitation to enter at this hour was tenuous at best, her own non-existent.

“Let’s get back to our apartments, shall we? We can talk more in the morning,” Alanna said. Kitten chirped her approval, and Daine nodded. Though the young girl had grown a few inches taller than Alanna in the last year, she did not complain as the knight slung a protective arm awkwardly around her shoulder, hugging her close as they walked out of the aviary, the heavy doors closing behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has waited for this! Life gets in the way and it's hard to remember to keep working on the things you love. I took a new job that demands 100% of my time, and daydreaming about Daine's problems keeps me sane. I will be updating, but at a much slower pace than I had hoped for when I started the story. But one way or another, I plan to finish this thing.

Daine’s first thought upon awakening was surprise that she did not feel worse. Sun streamed in through her window, illuminating the expansive chambers, and she squinted, wondering the time of day. It was hard to tell in this land, the early morning looking much the same as the late afternoon: hot and sunny. But as Kitten’s snores drifted lightly at the foot of the bed, and Zek’s softer breaths came from the pillow beside her, Daine forgot all about time. She curled into the soft Carthaki cotton of her bedcovers, enjoying the last few hazy moments of sleep, her thoughts languid. After attempting to heal that many animals at once, she found she often felt wrung out as a washerwoman’s rag, but today, her head was clear, and she wondered at it for a moment until the whole horrible evening came crashing over her at once. That horrid man so rightfully called Black Mage had lent her his Gift, and even though the well of her magic brimmed with vitality, the rest of her was covered head to toe in shame. Would he tell everyone what had happened? She reasoned the fact that she was still in her bed, and not being wrenched out to board a ship at the Tortallans’ quickest convenience, meant he had kept quiet on the matter so far.

Gods above, please let it stay that way! Daine thought. She pulled the covers up to her chin, staring at the ornate ceiling, where leopards chased antelope in golden effigy. It had felt like that last night, if antelope were prone to turning around and running straight into the leopard’s claws. She was the one who disapproved of the male-crazy Rider girls who fell for any attractive man who crooked his finger. She had been warned a million times, and she had fallen into the arms of the Black Mage as if he weren’t the most dangerous man in the world, as if he weren’t one of the reasons her own country was suffering. She swallowed, hard. He was dangerous, but he held knowledge about her magic, knowledge she wanted.

But what would she pay for it? He had merely touched her, and something had uncoiled deep inside, a longing she did not know she had, and that wild part of her that had sent her running with the wolves had opened up, engulfing her as it had then. The madness, she thought, tears pricking her eyes. That had to be it. Nothing else would have sent her careening headlong into danger. Alanna had helped her bandage it up, but even the knight had been apologetic when she told Daine it was just a temporary fix. The warnings had been clear. If Daine went too far into her magic, she might undo what Alanna had done.

But maybe it wasn’t just magic that brought the madness, and the part of her that wanted that climbing sensation, that rolling heat in her belly, maybe that would bring on the madness just as well.

A knock at the door shook Daine from her thoughts.

“Daine?” Alanna said from the other side. “May I come in?” Daine bit her lip, not wanting to face the knight just yet, but she knew there was no avoiding it. Before she could answer, Alanna opened the door a crack, slipping into Daine’s room and closing the door behind her with a gentle click. “Sorry,” the knight said. “Couldn’t risk the answer being no.” Alanna strode across the room and took a seat on the bed. “How are you doing, love? You’ve slept most of the day away.”

“What time is it?” Daine asked. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”

“It’s almost midday. We’re about to eat lunch in a moment, and as to why no one woke you, well, you did a fair bit of healing last night, and this morning was all negotiations over who gets which grain of rice when. You weren’t really needed, so I told them to let you rest.” Alanna smoothed a curl back from Daine’s forehead, and Daine felt a warmth from her fingertips. “You didn’t answer my question though. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Daine said, perhaps a little too quickly. Alanna’s eyes narrowed, then she looked around the chamber and sent purple fire to every corner, protecting them from any listening spells. She turned back to her ward, her expression guarded.

“Daine,” Alanna began slowly, “give an old lady her due. I know there was more going on than just a lesson or whatever that pompous ass in a black robe called it. And I suspect it has landed you very far from ‘fine.’ Lindhall told me where you were and who you were with, but I couldn’t just come pull you out and interfere with you healing the emperor’s birds. The talks would have ended right there. Lindhall assures me this Salmalin is actually some sort of gentleman, and that you were safe, but then Kitten started acting out, and she ran off, straight back to the aviary. It took a lot of convincing to get Lindhall to let us in. Apparently only a few people are allowed there, and at very specific times. He only did it because I told him Kitten would never make those sounds if she thought you weren’t in distress.” Alanna pushed herself off the bed, turning to face her ward. She fingered the pendant that never strayed far from her neck, the one gifted to her by the Goddess herself, and Daine knew her friend well enough to know Alanna was thinking hard on what to say next.

“Daine, love,” Alanna continued, “the Black Mage is a very attractive man. Mithros bless, he’s famous for it in even our own country. He visited the palace once years ago to confer with our university, and Thayet wouldn’t stop talking about him for months.” The knight sighed, her expression softening. “He’s also very, very clever. And older than you, and more experienced in the ways of the world, and his reputation is not what anyone would call spotless. You know it, I know it, and so does the rest of the delegation. Goddess bless, so does this whole country! If anything did happen, no one would blame you. Not for anything, understand? But if we’re going to continue these talks and get anything out of them at all, there can be no surprises. So I’ll ask you once, and I’ll believe whatever you say, but I have to know.” Alanna’s purple gaze caught Daine’s and held it. “Tell me true, Daine. Did he seduce you?”

Daine’s head swam, and she could hear her own pulse beating hard in her ears, like drums before battle. Or execution, she thought bitterly. She wished nothing more than for the earth to swallow her up. Alanna looked so concerned, so full of compassion, Daine wanted to confess all to her, to ask her mentor why she had gone mad enough to desire the Black Mage, to fix that broken part of her or take it away forever. Did he seduce her? Daine wanted to laugh, or cry, or both. He hadn’t even needed to! Something about him, his magic, his intensity, drew her like a moth to a flame, and she had felt herself burning up much the same. But if she told Alanna any of that, the peace negotiations would be over. Daine knew if Duke Gareth found out about her…her wanton behavior, something she wasn’t sure she could control, he would say her job healing the birds was done and put her on the first ship back to Tortall. Though Daine almost yearned for the escape, she also knew Alanna. And if Daine told her that the Black Mage had kissed her, even though she had yielded to him, the knight would deem it a breach of trust between nations, all else be damned, and she would demand satisfaction. The peace negotiations would be over, and Carthak would go to war with Tortall, openly and with the full force of their armies.

And my friends would have to fight, because of me, Daine thought, her blood turning cold.

It was midday, Alanna had said. If the knight had heard anything, she would have brought it to Daine. But she was asking Daine for the story. Which means he didn’t tell, Daine thought. If he didn’t tell, then perhaps her shame could stay secret, and the talks could go on, and her friends would be safe. If keeping quiet means no one gets hurt, then I’ll keep quiet, Daine thought.

“He didn’t do anything, Alanna,” she said, making her voice as even as possible. “He helped me heal the birds, and you know how they get. They muddied me up, it just looked—I mean I know what it looked like but…” Daine trailed off, swallowing. Alanna’s expression was unreadable, and she took a slow breath. The air felt heavy, and Daine had the odd sense that she could feel the listening spell pressing on her, but in a moment it was gone. Alanna sighed heavily, then moved toward the door.

“You’re a good girl, Daine. I know you’ll keep doing us proud,” the knight said. Daine’s heart squeezed as Alanna’s purple eyes, plaintive and searching, met her own. Though the knight had said she would believe her, Daine could tell she did not. They were always completely honest with each other, and Daine knew she was breaking that trust. But she was old enough to know better, and she had let herself fall to that womanizing brute, and she just couldn’t confess it, not to Alanna, not to anyone. It was her fault, no matter what anyone else said, and Daine would not start a war because part of her was half wild. It was better this way, then, better Alanna suffer a little then the whole of Tortall suffer much more than that because Daine could not control herself.

“Nothing happened, Alanna,” Daine said firmly.

“If you say so, love,” Alanna replied, her voice filled with resignation. “When you’re feeling well enough, go on and get dressed. We’ve a lot more politicking ahead of us, which means I’ve a lot of praying to the Goddess for a swift death.” The knight offered her a small smile, which Daine returned, but it was missing the same comfort that it had before.

When Alanna had left the room, Daine kicked off the covers and closed her eyes briefly, then opened them once more, trying to dispell the dull ache of guilt and failing utterly. Well, no sense in putting off what won’t go away, she thought, dragging herself from the safety of her bed. If she couldn’t have the earth swallow her up, then she supposed she would just have to meet the day and hope for the best.

Sometime when she had slept, a slave had put fresh water in the tiled wash basin near the vanity, and Daine pulled a face at the cold water, knowing there must be some sort of magic keeping it cool in the heat. What she wouldn’t give for a good honest river to bathe in, instead of all this Carthaki frippery! She sighed and washed her face, selecting one of the day dresses Thayet’s seamstress had provided. Daine whispered a small thanks to the lady that these were much more modest, and the dress she chose was simple white muslin with a gold belt that cinched just below her breasts. In the Carthaki fashion, it left her arms bare, but Daine suspected she would appreciate that fact later as the sun asserted itself in the sky. She was about to leave, then paused a moment, turning to the looking glass that sat upon the table. Different clothes, she thought, feeling like a stranger in her skin. But the same eyes, same hair, same mouth from home. A blush crept up her neck as she traced the outline of her lips. The same, and yet not the same at all. The night came back to her, the remembered feeling of his mouth on hers, claiming it for his own, and the yearning she had felt as his body pressed against hers stirred in her breast once more.

Quickly, Daine pinched herself, wincing at the pain. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself sternly. He claimed nothing. I am me, and he can’t have that unless I say so.

Zek chirped, scampering up her arm to take his place under her hair. If you had fur, you wouldn’t have to spend so long trying to figure out which skin to put on, he said. Daine tickled his chin, lost in thought. If I had fur, I suspect a fair many things would be easier, she replied. Kitten whistled impatiently, her tail twitching, and Daine shook her head. Maybe she was caught up thinking of two-legger problems, but Kitten had her mind on the important things.

“I’d hate to miss lunch too,” Daine said. It was a new day, and a full belly always helped make the world rosier. Daine cast one final look at the glass, pulled a face at the girl in it, and then led her coterie out into the shared apartments of the Tortallan delegation.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chipping away at the story in my spare time! And I miss Numair, so hopefully I can get him back as soon as possible...

A large table dominated the center of the room, piled high with flat bread and goat cheese, and juicy fruits that Daine had never seen before. It was low to the ground in the old Carthaki style, covered with delicate cloth-of-gold that was richly embroidered with flowers, and, to Daine’s amusement, was surrounded by overstuffed red pillows on which many of her fellow emissaries already sat. She hid a smile to see fussy Lord Martin trying to arrange his bulk in a way that would allow him to sample from the table and still maintain an air of dignity, while in contrast, Duke Gareth sat straight-backed, fastidiously nibbling at slice of cold goat meat. She was not the last arrive, thankfully, and she slid onto a cushion, crossing her legs in front of her and reaching for some of the green fruit Zek had called ‘melon.’ Purple and orange lights twinkled at the edge of her vision, and as Daine bit into the sweet fruit, she knew Harailt and Alanna had sent their magic to the corners of the room to prevent any listening spells from impeding their morning conversation.

“They mean to put us off balance, sitting us at this relic,” Lord Martin muttered as he folded some cheese inside the paper-thin bread. “They haven’t used these tables for centuries. Are these quarters for diplomats or are they a forgotten museum?”

“We oughtn’t be displeased with our accommodations,” Duke Gareth replied, “and if our reports of Daine from this morning are true, we should turn our thoughts to more productive matters.” All eyes turned to her, and Daine dropped her fork. It clattered against her plate, echoing off the vaulted ceiling.

“Reports about me?” she asked, her voice tight.

“Quite right. Apparently, you healed the emperor’s birds in one session, and they are as hale as if they had never been ill at all. His Majesty is most pleased, and when he expressed his delight with you, his ministers became much more amenable to our terms.” The Black Mage had not said a word, then. But the picture Duke Gareth painted did not sound like the emperor she had met, who had said he was beholden to the whims of his council. “I admit I had some misgivings of bringing along a child,” he continued, “but you are proving your worth to the delegation. The emperor has personally invited us to his menagerie on your behalf—”

“Your Grace,” Alanna said quickly, “is that wise? Daine had a long day healing the emperor’s birds. Perhaps she should rest more. A menagerie is not the most—“

“Were we on the battlefield, Lioness, I would defer to your wisdom,” Duke Gareth replied. “In a court of nobles who would as soon go to war with us as they would broker a peace, I ask you defer to mine.”

“She cannot slight the emperor by not attending,” Gareth the Younger added.

Lord Martin harrumphed, stabbing a piece of melon with his fork, his chins wobbling as he fixed Daine with a look.

“I side with the Lioness. We all watched this young girl assault the Grand Vizier of Carthak the moment we set foot in his country.” He glowered at Daine, pointing the melon at her as if it were a sword with which to make his point. “It was only by the grace of the gods that he did not hold it against us in this morning’s talks, though I cannot imagine why. If some Carthaki chit struck me on Tortallan soil, I would send the whole ship back, rats and all, before a talk of peace could even draw breath!”

“And that is why I head this delegation, Lord Martin, instead of your own esteemed self,” said Duke Gareth, his tone clipped. “King Jonathan thought it well that Daine accompany this mission, and I see now how we may use that to our advantage. Should you disagree, I would council you to keep it to yourself until we are safely home.” Lord Martin muttered darkly, casting his eyes back to his plate. “However,” the duke continued, “Lord Martin is correct, Daine. I do not know what transpired between you and the Black Mage, but it is, as Lord Martin says, by the grace of the gods that it did not affect our negotiations this morning. I did not think it necessary to remind you that the milieu in this endeavor is tense, and you are but a child with less than a few years of understanding of the inner workings of a court, but remember your duty to your country, and keep to yourself, or to Alanna.”

Only the sound of forks scraping on plates could be heard as the duke turned back to his lunch, crushing hard cheese over his flatbread. Daine was stunned. It was no secret that the men of the delegation had thought her presence to be one of King Jonathan’s less-inspired whims, but she had grown accustomed to the easy acceptance of the Tortallans. With every word that flowed from Duke Gareth’s lips, she felt another sharp sideways Gallan stare, another lick of flame as her house burned up, her hackles raising. But there were no wolves to save her if they all turned on her here. She looked to Alanna, beseeching, but the knight met her gaze silently, with a small shake of her head. Daine knew her friend well enough to know that what that look meant. Don’t push it.

Daine curled her hands into fists, feeling her nails bite into her palms. A warm weight pressed against her leg, and Daine looked down to see Kitten’s gold eyes blinking up at her. She breathed out, uncurling her hands. It was only a few more days. Only a few days and she could be back home, where things made sense again.

A straight-backed slave in rich robes entered the room, wrapping a wooden staff smartly on the ground. The Tortallan delegation moved to their feet, awkwardly for most of them as they rose from their stuffed chairs, as the prince and the Lady Varice entered the room. “His Highness the Prince Kaddar Illiniat, heir to the Golden Throne, and Lady Varice Kingsford,” the slave intoned.

“Our esteemed cousins!” Lady Varice said with a musical, cheery voice. She wore a clinging green gown that dipped low in the front to nearly her navel, and gold bangles adorned her wrists, while a transparent white veil covered her curling blonde hair. The dress threatened with every movement to spill her breasts, but it was so intentional Daine could not help but be envious. She crossed her arms over her own modest chest, trying not to think of last night, how clumsily she had tried to enter a world meant for people like the Lady Varice. “I trust you have enjoyed your morning, and are ready for the tour,” Varice continued. She took Duke Gareth’s arm with practiced ease, threading her own through his and drawing him close, as if he were a close personal friend. Daine bit her lip, knowing it would be too much to ask for the prince to escort her like that, that he was bound by etiquette to offer his arm to the lady of their group with the highest status. The only lady anyway, Daine thought, staring at her feet. Prince Kaddar bowed low to Alanna, offering his escort. The knight flicked a glance to Daine, then accepted the young man’s arm, leaving Daine and Kitten and Zek to bring up the rear once more, a tagalong group, congratulated one minute for a job well done, condemned the next for a momentary lapse in sanity. A noble life, Daine thought bitterly.

With the formalities concluded, Varice led the party through a series of halls that led to the gardens, and Daine felt certain she would never find the menagerie again, not even if she wanted to, so vast were the grounds of the palace of Carthak. Then buildings began to grow up around them like rocky outcroppings, and she found they had crossed to the university. All too soon they were before a building that defied the symmetrical architecture of the rest of Carthak. It was immense, long and low to the ground, except for jutting minarets and towers that shot upward at random intervals. It was the most bizarre building she had ever seen, and at first she could not imagine what it was doing in Ozorne’s Carthak. But inside, she felt the voices of the People, questioning, and knew it was the menagerie. Daine told Zek she was shutting off her magic, and would no longer be able to hear him. He understood, he said. He knew cages well.

I feel like I’m getting to know them too, Daine thought as they passed through the gates of the menagerie, under the imperial seal: a crossed sword and wand, topped by a crown, wrapped in a jagged circle that Daine knew was supposed to be the sun’s rays, but looked more to her like fire.


	11. Chapter 11

The murmurs of appreciation from her party did nothing to prepare Daine for the world in which she found herself transported. Zek’s eyes were round and wondering, and Kitten whistled low, appreciatively. Daine could not help but mirror their sentiments, for all that she had just stepped into a menagerie. The punishing heat of the Carthaki morning receded, and Daine felt her face bathed in gentle sunlight. She blinked up at the ceiling, where clouds scudded across a sky as blue as Kitten’s scales, like tiny sailboats in a vast harbor. Gone was the empty, fierce blue of the Carthaki sky. This was something else entirely. Golden scrub grass grew near the wide mosaic stone of the menagerie walking path, and rolled away to a lazy river where tiny grey ears and a bulbous nose broke the surface, the sluicing water making tough hide seem as shiny as glass. A huge creature she had never seen before, grey as a storm with a large bulbous body, yawned wide, showing off his impressive teeth for the visitors, and long-horned antelope grazed nearby, as unconcerned with the two-leggers as they were with the flies that penetrated the stillness of the plains with their droning songs. 

“His Majesty the Emperor Ozorne designed this menagerie himself,” Lady Varice said, waving one perfectly manicured hand at the small piece of Ekallatum that stood before them. “He desired his animals to not want for anything, so he asked the university mages to replicate their natural habitats. You will find as we proceed that we’ve managed to get everything right down to the weather, so the beasts feel as comfortable as if they were in the wild.” Harailt’s eyes were as wide as Zek’s, and he shuffled to the front in order to pelt Varice with questions about how the magic was done, his voice fast and excited. Daine saw the radiant smile go rigid, though Varice’s mannerisms remained light and airy. The gilded hostess knew the script, it seemed, but not much more than that. Still, the how of it did not interest Daine so much as whether Varice was right, whether the animals felt comfortable. 

The small antelope herd inched across the plains, grazing at their leisure, and Daine chewed her lip, feeling as much like a normal two-legger as ever, cut off from the People. She opened her magic just a bit, barely brushing the leggy creatures, and they raised their heads as one, alert to this new plains-sister who stood on the forbidden rocks, past the wall they could not see. 

“Are the spells woven into the building?” Harailt’s gentle tenor floated down to Daine. “Or must they be maintained? It is nearly seamless work, and must take quite a bit of power to create such natural beauty.”

“Quite a bit of power, yes,” Varice replied. “The emperor has mages studying around the clock at the University, discovering new spells to keep the grass growing, the weather just the right amount of humid or arid. It really is quite fascinating, and wonderful to see in all of its splendor. But that is our emperor, shaping the world to be a better place.” 

“So they are maintained by the mages?” Harailt pressed. 

“They are woven,” Kaddar broke in, his voice full of enthusiasm. His voice drew Daine, and she looked sideways at the nobles.“I study at the University, and we are learning of it now. It’s really quite the feat, and masterfully orchestrated.” Varice looked notably relieved that someone else would be answering questions, and resumed her chatter to the rest of the party as Harailt and Kaddar began to speak in earnest about the inner workings of the menagerie’s magic. Alanna, already annoyed with her hand on a prince’s arm instead of her sword hilt, rolled her eyes as the talk turned more obscure, gave an excuse, and joined Gary the Younger near his father at the head of their group. The party moved on down the pathway, but Daine dawdled, taking time with each animal to examine their living spaces, that the temperature was just right, the plants familiar, and most importantly, whether the animals seemed distressed. 

Though she saw the group up ahead, they were well out of earshot by now, and so it was alone that Daine found the air growing colder. A path to the left would head towards the cold, and she felt drawn to it, wondering if she would find snow, if such a marvel could be possible. She chewed her lip, watching as her party receded down the path to the right, recalling Duke Gareth’s words from their breakfast. He  _ had _ said to stick to Alanna or herself, she thought. Well, to herself it would be. As long as she was alone, she certainly couldn’t do any political harm, certainly couldn’t say the wrong thing to the wrong person. She would only talk to People, and they were never confusing.

With resolve, she started down the left path. She smelled the pine before she felt the first snowflake touch her nose, and she gasped as she moved closer. It was wondrous, a perfect replica of the Gallan foothills, full of tall trees for the family of wolves to hide within. Here too lay a small stream, full of fish, and when Daine opened her senses a bit more, she was startled to hear rabbits and other smallfolk nestled in their burrows.

He lets them hunt here, she realized with awe. It was one of the things that a menagerie could never replace, that need for predators to seek and smell and kill, and it was what drove many of them mad when they were caged. That the emperor would think to include it…

Who is this man? she wondered. And how could he be the same man who was threatening her country?

There was only one way to know, she decided, dropping her walls and opening up her magic. Zek squeaked, hiding under her hair as the wolves sensed a sister and came forward, noses questing for more information about her. Hello, Pack, Daine said, and the leader stepped forward, a large black male with amber eyes. Hello, sister, he said. You smell like Pack, but you walk the forbidden path, and no Pack can do this. Explain.

Daine bit her lip, remembering not to smile in the face of a new pack leader. Rattail had taught her wolves did not like being smiled at, as it undermined their seriousness. 

I am People, Daine said in reply, but also two-legger. We are cousins, from the mountainlands.

The wolf whuffed in agreement. You smell of the snows, of the pine trees and damp earth. Cousins we are, and yet far from home.

“You know where you are?” Daine asked out loud, surprised by his answer. The wolf said that he did. He had been recently pushed out of his pack, once he had come of age, and was on the hunt for a mate, with no luck at all. The ranging lands had shrank, too many two-leggers, and too few mates. He had been captured, and angry at first for it, but when he had come to this place, there was the snow, and a young wolf his age, and he grew fond of her, she of him, and they chose each other.

You like it here? Daine asked, and the wolf nodded. The man who smells of power helped me find my mate. He treats us well, and our family grows. 

As if on cue, a small wolf pup yipped, tumbling forward to fall at the black male’s feet. Daine sensed his warmth toward his pup, and bid him farewell so he could tend to his family. Well met, wolf-sister, the large wolf replied, then turned and padded back toward the wood. The snow continued to fall softly in the enclosure, and soon the crunching sound of paws receded, leaving her alone on the path. This doesn’t look like a cage, Zek said. Daine could only agree. The man who smells of power, it had to be the emperor. With the way he treated his birds, and now this menagerie…

She continued her journey, passing through an awning that was decorated with emerald broadleafed trees which gave way to the real thing. Like the ones in the aviary, she thought as the air grew warm and damp. The cries of monkeys swinging from branch to branch in search of fruit mingled with the leathery wings of bats that sought the same prize. She could feel the large spotted jungle cats sleeping lightly in the trees, and while she very much wished to speak with them, having never met one before, she was loathe to disturb their rest and so continued on. The jungle habitat was dimly lit, with only a little of the magical sky showing through the canopy of trees, but as Daine walked, she realized the path grew darker still, and soon she reached a part of the menagerie where the air hung stale, tinged with the scent of rotted meat. Zek tugged one of Daine’s curls. This place smells scary, he said. Daine couldn’t disagree. The enclosure she came upon was sank four feet below where the path tread, with tall glass walls meant to keep in whatever lay down there. A pond stood to the side of a rocky cave, but it was man-made, with no use of magic to keep it fresh. Sparse brown grass struggled to grow around a littering of shattered bones. 

Did anyone live here? She thought not, but then she heard a scratching, and felt them in the cave. Daine peered into the darkness, and without thinking, opened up her magic more. “Hello?” she called, but heard no answer. “If anyone is in there, I’d very much like to meet you.” Something moved within the cave, and Daine crouched down to get a better look. Three shaggy bodies stirred, rising slowly to their feet and shaking dust from their coats. Daine sucked in a breath, her eyes wide with awe. Now here was something new!

The largest of the creatures sniffed at the air, then fixed her with a gaze that was more amused than interested. You smell of far away. It was a female voice, deep and commanding. You smell of cold, and strange trees. Me and my boys never had a whiff of someone like you. 

The creatures that padded toward her were enormous, the color of the dirt, with black spots dappling their flanks. If she could meet the god who had made these creatures! Now there was a god with imagination, she thought. Their chests were barreled, tapering into short haunches that seemed capable of traveling large distances. The canny black eyes set deep in their face marked them as predators, as did the powerful jaws and large teeth. Some of the bones laying around the enclosure had been snapped clean in two, and seeing them now, Daine was not surprised at all.

“You’re  _ beautiful _ ,” she breathed. The large female barked, and Daine swore it sounded like laughter as the smaller males behind her joined in. Now there’s a word we haven’t heard in a while, the female said when she’d regained her composure. Beautiful, she says. Maybe so, maybe so, little sister. The creature laughed again, and it echoed from the walls. When it died down, the female continued. I’m Teeu. These are my boys. What are you doing in our place, little sister? No one visits here unless they have to. You don’t look like you have to be anywhere.

“I’m visiting the menagerie,” Daine said. “And you were in my path.” Teeu bared her teeth, barking her amusement once more.

Is that so? I think you’re lost, little sister. We’re not in anyone’s path, she said. 

“Why do you say that?” Daine replied. 

This is the trouble place, the dangerous place. We’re not welcome in this kingdom, so people aren’t welcome here no more. No matter. We still have friends, you know. The man who smells like power, he comes here. Tells us all the trouble. A great many, and it’s always men with other power. Teeu shook her shaggy head. Hyenas are smarter. We don’t let men rule. My boys step out of line, no more boys. Easy. 

Daine opened her mouth to reply, but then a soft voice spoke in her ear.

“Well, well,” the Black Mage said. “What strange company you do keep, magelet.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a little extra at the end of this chapter, because it didn't quite fit with what came next, and was too short to be it's own thing. Thank you so much to everyone who has commented, I read them all and quite adore them! I'm determined to finish this thing one way or another, so I appreciate everyone who has stuck around!

The hyenas laughed behind her, loud and high.

She was sure the gods were laughing too.

Daine almost wanted to join in. How absurd it seemed that no matter how much she tried to be alone, there he was, and this time in all of his court finery. Gone were the simple garments from the river bank. Today, the Black Mage looked a new kind of severe in a northern-style black tunic that buttoned to his throat, inlaid with silver thread that drew dragon patterns around the hem. His black robe of office was draped about his shoulders, as if he had no care for the heat of the menagerie, and his dark hair was pulled back in a queue, every hair in place. Daine couldn’t help but notice that he did not adorn himself as the other men of Carthak, using every finger and square inch of skin to hang gold. No, the Black Mage had to be different, of course. He wore only a simple black stone about his neck, the size of a child’s fist, with a single silver ring that held the same in miniature.

Daine resisted the urge to hug her bare arms across the simple white muslin dress, which this morning had seemed so fine, and now made her felt as if she were a farmer standing in front of a lord. Unbidden, she found herself wishing she had half the weapons Lady Varice had, so she could make him feel sorry for the way he had treated her last night, and leave him standing like a lump instead of herself. Though she had promised herself to never think of it again, seeing him here, so close, the memories crashed against her like storm-driven waves on the bluffs of Pirate’s Swoop. His lips claiming hers, commanding her mouth to open to him, his callused hands traveling up her legs, seeking her center, and the glorious feeling of a new world when he had found it, while she had breathed deeply of sandalwood and spice and whatever entirely male scent she had never smelled before that seemed to belong to only him.

A nip at her neck shook her. You were trembling, Zek said in a small voice. Daine let go of a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, and thanked the marmoset. Alanna had forgiven her once for falling into the Black Mage’s trap. Twice, and Daine would seem a fool. Or worse, Alanna might think she was…

Daine grit her teeth against the memories, shoving them down. If this truly was the madness, then somehow the Black Mage was tied to it.

And that meant Daine needed to be as far away from him as possible.

Find Alanna, please, she urged Zek. The marmoset peeped around her neck uncertainly, eyeing the Black Mage. He looked the tall man up and down once, then shot from his perch into the underbrush as fast as he could run, gone in a moment in a flash of mottled fur.

Numair, for his part, merely looked sideways as Zek ran to safety, then turned his onyx gaze back to Daine.

“I am not entirely familiar with the customs of your Gallan hills,” he said, “but in Carthak, in this situation, someone of your position would bow to someone in mine.” Daine’s eyes widened. Though his words were stern and perfunctory, a smirk played about his lips, and she knew he was trying to provoke her as he had the night before, and every other time she had ever seen him. And never again! she swore, balling her fists. Blue-grey eyes met dark ones as she stared into his handsome, hated face. She thought about Alanna punching the smirk off his face, and it gave her the strength to offer a plastered smile, and use Thayet’s training once more to sink into a slightly unsteady curtsy.

“My apologies,” Daine said, bowing her head.

“My apologies, Your Grace. Surely you are aware of the customary honorifics. Or was your education lacking there as well?”

She stiffened. Then took a deep breath.

“My apologies, _Your Grace.”_ Though she tried, she could not keep her voice from emphasizing the last two words, letting him know she thought he was anything but. She rose, and saw the briefest hint of a smile, which disappeared as he clapped his hands once.

“Your apologies are accepted, Mistress Daine. Now,” he continued, surveying her like a hawk eyes a field mouse, “perhaps you can enlighten me as to why you are so far from your party? Certainly this isn’t the type of enclosure that would entice one such as yourself. I would think the reenactment of your homeland would tempt you much more. Or do you have an aversion to wolves as most young women do?”

Daine straightened, meeting his predatory gaze without wavering. Maybe he only knew silly young women who didn’t like wolves. She knew a few herself. But he didn’t know her. “I saw them already, and they had very nice things to say about how they emperor kept them in good health.” Two can play the saying-more-than-you-mean game, Master Black Mage.

Numair raised an eyebrow. “And what nice things did they have to say about the emperor?”

“They said the man with power helped them find each other, and make a family.” Daine raised her chin, wanting to ruffle his perfect feathers. “I think it’s rather amazing that the emperor has accomplished something so grand, don’t you? Any man who cares for his animals that well must have a great heart.”

Numair’s eyes glittered with something Daine could not name, but if she were a wolf herself, it would have raised her hackles.

“So,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk, “you are asking the animals how they find their accommodations.”

It was not a question.

He looked over her shoulder where the hyenas sat watching them, and as he met their eyes, they began to bark and whoop once more. The Black Mage strode to the glass, his robe brushing her bare arm as he passed her. She turned, and saw that he surveyed the bare pit, with its fetid water and sparse grass. The hyenas howled a cacophony of noise, until the Black Mage placed one hand on the glass. They settled down immediately, one of Teeu’s boys kicking up a cloud of dust as he scratched at a flea, while the other moved to crunch noisily on a bone already picked clean, heedless of the two-legger drama. Teeu herself merely grinned.

Too late, Daine realized she had said too much. Asking the animals about how they liked the menagerie was like asking the slaves if they wanted to be free, and Duke Gareth had made it painfully clear that was forbidden. To ask about the animals could be perceived as a slight against the emperor. The blood drained from her face, and she felt a cold sweat prickle on her brow. Please don’t take it as a slight, she begged silently. Please say I didn’t mess up again.

“What do you know of hyenas, Daine?” Numair asked. The question took Daine by surprise, but was easy enough to answer.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “These are the first ones I ever met. I didn’t even know what they were called until Teeu told me.”

His back remained to her, so she saw his shoulders tense as she spoke the hyena’s name. “And did Teeu speak of the emperor too?” he asked. His voice was quiet, and Daine thought she heard a warning in it, or excitement.

She took it as her chance to cover her mistake. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been speaking with the animals about their captivity, but fortunately she did not have to stretch the truth to make the emperor sound benevolent. “She did,” Daine said. “She said the man with power is their only friend.” She hoped it sounded as complimentary as the hyenas had meant it. Daine thought about adding more accolades at the emperor’s feet, but she couldn’t lie about what the hyenas had said, not with them standing there, not even if they weren’t. Instead, she added, “They sound like they like him very much.”

Her words sent the hyenas into another laughing fit. The Black Mage turned from them, walking past Daine once more to stand near the edge of the path. He inhaled sharply, squaring his shoulders. She caught the hard glittering look in his eyes, and knew it for what it was.

Hunger.

This time, the look was not for her, and she quelled a sudden feeling of emptiness at the thought. You’re supposed to be avoiding his looks, she told herself fiercely. Be happy you’re finally doing it!

But when he faced her again, all the breath left her body, and her heart started hammering like the wings of a bird in a cage. A dazzling smile lit the Black Mage’s face, a true smile that changed his features so much all the Players of Tortall would be envious at how he could transform. Instead of the forbidding and hated Black Mage, she saw a handsome young man, with humorous dark eyes as warm as rich coffee, delighted by...something, though she had no idea what.

Her cheeks flushed. Inexplicably, she found herself wanting to know what had made him so happy, so she could share it with him.

“Daine!” came Alanna’s voice from off the path.

Daine shoved the traitorous thought away. Whatever was making him that happy had to be twisted, and awful, and nothing she wanted. All she wanted was to join Alanna, and be away from the Black Mage, and out of trouble. Somehow, she had managed to leave him happier than she had found him, which was an improvement on their usual meetings. Daine smiled, satisfied with herself, and sketched the Black Mage a proper curtsy.

“Thank you for the conversation, Your Grace,” she said, using her fanciest courtly manners. “But the Lioness is looking for me, and she’s best not kept waiting.”

“Of course,” the Black Mage said, bowing in kind. “Though as you do not quite know your way back, I shall escort you. I am sure the Lioness would prefer you were not wandering on your own.” 

Daine tensed. She remembered the look in Alanna’s eyes when she had come upon them in the aviary. It was not a look she would soon forget, and it was certainly one she was desperate to avoid. “That’s quite alright,” she said, rising and moving to brush past him. “I don’t want to be a bother, and I remember the way.”

His hand shot out, encircling the bare skin of her upper arm. 

“I insist,” he said. 

The warmth of his hand on her arm felt scalding. Before she could think, she exclaimed, “You can’t!” 

Amusement danced in the Black Mage’s eyes. “And why is that?” he asked. He pulled her arm through his, tucking it in the crook of his elbow like any courtly gentleman, and began to walk down the path. Daine dug in her heels, pulling against his weight. 

Daine thought to tell him that it would be unseemly, that the Lioness would be cross with her to know they’d been alone, but she could not think of how to put it without risking offending him once more. She had avoided trouble this time, by the gods! “Please, Your Grace,” she said desperately, trying to free her arm. 

The Black Mage chuckled, holding her fast. It was like fighting against a stone wall, and Daine tried to ignore the hardness of his muscles under the smooth silk of his robe. “Ah, I see. You think the Lioness will disapprove of us being alone together?” He met her gaze, and Daine’s eyes widened. She cursed him to every god she knew. He thought this was funny!

She took a steadying breath, remembering her vow. He would not provoke her. 

“Anyone would think it passing strange if we were together, Your Grace. So if you would please just let me go--”

Daine tried to pull free once more, but the Black Mage merely smiled, and gave a sharp tug of her arm. She felt herself propelled forward with improbable force, her slippered feet stumbling as she fell against his chest, and the motion made her curls break loose from their tenuous hold, falling about her face. He circled an arm about her to steady her, holding her closer than any etiquette in any country would have allowed. She could breathe his scent, that leather and spice and entirely male smell that made her heart beat faster, feel the heat of his body against hers, and her throat went dry. 

“I did not ask for an argument,” he said. His dark eyes glittered as he looked down at her, and the humor left his voice, his words soft and dark like velvet at night. “I am the emperor’s vizier, and it would be remiss of me to not escort you from this place. The only question is will you be following me on your own two feet? Or shall I find another way?” He raised his hand, and so gently he might have brushed a butterfly’s wing, he brushed a curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. As his hand touched the delicate flesh there, Daine felt a jolt of lightning through her belly. She wanted it to be fear. Fear would be reasonable, standing in the circle of the Black Mage’s arms. But it felt more heady than fear, more unfamiliar than the hunt. Her fingers were still splayed against the black silk of his tunic, against the hard wall of stone that was his chest. She shivered, realizing the muscles hidden beneath the silk of his tunic were not for show. He was the most powerful mage in the world, but to get her to obey his wishes right now, he would merely have to pick her up and dump her at the Lioness’s feet. 

Daine cast her gaze to her feet. “Lead the way, Your Grace,” she said through gritted teeth.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so stuck on getting through one of these scenes, finally just had to throw a large chunk of writing out and start all over. But I think it will be worth it, and move the story along a little quicker. Thank you to everyone who has commented, you really keep me engaged with moving along a little quicker too! I'm loving all the guesses about the story. :3
> 
> Also, if anyone missed the update, I added a little extra to Chapter 12, so you can always check that out and make sure you're all caught up before moving on.

Daine tried to keep the rising fear from choking her as Alanna’s voice grew closer. She only hoped the knight would give her a chance to explain that she would have preferred fighting a hundred spidrens to having her hand on the arm of the Black Mage. The only small mercy was that the Black Mage did not speak to her any more as they walked, leaving behind the sparse and oppressive heat of the hyena enclosure for the more gentle humid air of the jungle. The sharp calls of the jungle birds filled her ears, as did the hum of insects moving through the air. As they walked further along the jungle path, the cloying smell of the large flowers she had heard someone call orchids enveloped her, and if her hand was not imprisoned by her most hated enemy, she might have enjoyed the walk. 

“Daine!” Alanna’s voice rang out, startling Daine from her thoughts. The knight’s voice was filled with concern.

“You might want to answer her,” Numair said simply. Daine shot him a venomous look. Though she would have rather refused to do anything he said, there was no good sense in not calling back, so she did.

“I’m here, Alanna!” She heard the knight curse with relief, and felt her fear twist with longing at the familiar sound of her friend. Daine pulled up short, turning to the Black Mage. “You’ve escorted me, Your Grace. I’m safe and sound. Can you please let go of my arm?” She put on a false smile and tried to make her voice sound pleasant--tried, and failed. The Black Mage chuckled, shaking his head.

“I prefer to finish the things I’ve started,” he replied. The smile fell from her lips, and she scowled as he led her around a bend, where oversized bushes with big broad leafs and fat pink flowers obscured the path up ahead. Finding her teacher was all she wanted, and to get away from her miserable escort. Perhaps Alanna would take pity on her and let her retire from the tour of the menagerie early. Daine had no idea how much time they had been inside the magnificent structure, but whatever it was, it was too long. 

But the moment Alanna came into view, Daine knew pity was the farthest thing from her mind. The knight’s purple eyes blazed with fury, and her neck was mottled red, which only happened when she was trying her very hardest to suppress her temper. 

The blood drained from Daine’s face as the Lioness looked from the Black Mage to Daine, and then back again. Daine could fair see the thoughts fighting in the Lioness’s mind as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. A night ago, Daine had stood next to the Black Mage with her hair in disarray and her gown a mess, and now she stood fit to him as if they were a courtly pair. She tried to pull her hand from his arm as they approached, but he held her fast, and when she dared a glance in his direction, she saw that small smile play about his lips.

Daine seethed. He was enjoying this! As he had enjoyed humiliating her the previous evening, and the day before, and any other time she had seen him. Well, she had been guilty last night. This time she was not. Daine squared her shoulders. Alanna was her friend, and her friend would believe that she was innocent.

Storm clouds gathered in Alanna’s violet stare. Zek sat atop her shoulder, and as he made a small cheep, the Lioness’s brow snapped together, her decision made. The Black Mage never slowed his pace, raising a hand to hail the Lioness as they approached. 

“Well met, Lioness,” he said, stopping just before her teacher. Alanna’s fists were balled at her sides, and Daine tried once more to free herself, but the Black Mage, it seemed, was not yet finished with her.

“Your Grace,” Alanna said through gritted teeth. Her attempts at politeness were as good as Daine’s own. “I had thought you were detained by palace matters this morning, yet here you stand with my ward. And here I stand, with absolutely no idea why that would be.” 

Daine froze. Nothing about the Lioness’s tone spoke diplomacy. The Black Mage merely smiled, placing his hand over Daine’s. His long fingers lightly stroked hers, and color rose to her cheeks as the small devious part of her that rested in her belly unfurled at his touch. She pushed it away, clenching her jaw. He’s just a silly man, and I will not let him affect me, she reminded herself, but the fear that fluttered in her chest whispered that he was a silly man with the power to take their country to war. As famous as the Lioness’s temper was her lack of judgment when she was in a pet. And if the Lioness lost her temper, that would be the very end of their peace treaty.

“It was my fault, Alanna,” Daine said quickly. “I got lost in the menagerie and the Black--I mean, His Grace found me and...escorted me back to the path.” Zek chirped, and Daine hushed him. Now was not the time for the truth, she thought, misery blooming inside of her like the pink flowers of the menagerie.

Alanna’s gaze never left the Black Mage. “First the aviary,” she said, her voice taut. “Now the menagerie. Master Numair, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you are following our Daine, and for what reason.”

It felt as if the path dropped from beneath Daine’s feet. Duke Gareth had been clear. Diplomacy was the point of their visit, and this was their last chance to sue for peace. Yet here stood the Lioness, challenging the Black Mage. Alanna’s eyes fair crackled with rage, and the Black Mage, his hand still carelessly held over Daine’s own, grew still. This isn’t happening, Daine thought desperately. Alanna is not here. Alanna did not just say the Black Mage was interested in me like...like  _ that _ . In fact, we are all still sitting at breakfast, and no one ever came to this silly menagerie. Or better, we are all still back in Tortall, and no one has even heard of Carthak. 

She closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them, the scene had not changed one bit.

“My lady Alanna, I cannot begin to think of what you mean,” the Black Mage said. That damned smile still lingered at his lips, though his eyes were hard as onyx.

“And here I thought you were the most learned man in all the world,” Alanna replied coldly. “I think even the empress of the Yamani Isles would know what I mean.” 

“Of course. You must be referring to the palace gossip, though I am surprised that a lady such as yourself would deign to hear it.” Alanna stiffened as he smoothed away an imaginary blemish from the sleeve of his robe. “It is true though, what they say. I’m sure it has made it to your ears that I believe her education to be missing some key elements, and as a scholar, I feel honor-bound to help...fill in the blanks.” 

“Her education?” Alanna hissed. “That’s not what I--educating her about  _ what?” _

“Animals!” Daine cried out. She had seen the knight’s left hand flex, and Daine knew her friend well enough to know if there had been a sword at her hip, it would be raised to the Black Mage’s throat right about now. “He was teaching me about animals, Alanna. About hyenas.”

“Hyenas,” Alanna repeated flatly. Daine nodded, her head bobbing up and down like a crazy person, she was sure. 

“Hyenas,” the Black Mage replied. “Fascinating creatures. Daine is quite the eager student.” He patted her hand in what would have been a reassuring gesture from anyone else. But from him, each touch made her heart jump in her breast. She glanced up at him, and suddenly she found it difficult to breathe. He stared at her with a dark intensity that made the hairs on her arms stand up, and she felt a surge of warmth course through her. 

Alanna glanced from the Black Mage to Daine, and back again. She exhaled slowly before speaking once more. “So be it, Your Grace,” she said, measuring her words carefully. “But you will forgive me when I say that will be the last lesson you give her.”

“A pity.” The Black Mage turned his attention back to Alanna. “I had intended to offer her my services as a teacher. As you know, I am the foremost scholar in wild magic in the world. I think I would be quite useful to Daine, and she would have better ways to spend her time than idling in the menagerie with no one to guide her.”

Alanna turned a brighter shade of red. “She doesn’t want lessons from you.”

“Lioness, you wound me. What possible reason would she not want me as a teacher? I am, as you say, the most learned man in all the world.”

Something inside Alanna snapped. She took a menacing step forward, her hands coming up in front of her, purple fire glittering at her fingertips. “You’re nothing but a--” 

Daine leaped forward before the Lioness could finish her sentence, and thanked the gods that the Black Mage finally released her. She grabbed the knight’s hands in her own. 

“Alanna, no! I want the lessons,” Daine said, before she could stop herself. 

Alanna stared at her, her mouth slightly open. “You--no. Daine, I forbid it.”

“You forbid your student from sharing knowledge with Carthak?” 

“I forbid her from spending time with you,” Alanna hissed. 

“And I do not recall taking orders from the Tortallan King’s Champion.” Daine whirled around to see the Black Mage holding the stone that lay at his breast, his eyes hard and the fire of his Gift dancing on his fingertips. The air felt charged with lightning, and Daine wished fervently that she had asked Zek to get Duke Gareth instead of Alanna. He would have known how to extricate her from the Black Mage’s company without offending him, but Alanna could only see red.

“Please believe me,” Daine whispered to Alanna alone. Blue grey eyes stared into purple, and Daine hoped against hope that her gaze looked earnest. If Alanna didn’t believe her, they would not walk away from this unscathed. From the look on the Black Mage’s face, she didn’t know if they would anyway, but she had to try.

Anger turned to confusion on Alanna’s face, and it made Daine’s heart constrict in her chest. “Daine,” she began.

“No, Alanna, truly. I want him to teach me,” she continued, louder this time. As she said the words, her heart beat faster. Suddenly, she felt immensely sympathetic to those ladies at court who were always fainting, and who she had used to think were awful silly for doing so. But she understood them all too well, now, for politics were a funny business that made you feel that you’d stepped wrongly every moment, like missing the last stair, and Daine felt rather like fainting herself, only there was no gallant courtier to catch her if she fell, only her teacher who seemed intent on destroying their chances at peace all because of her, and the most vexing man in the world who Daine wished she had never met. She turned back to the Black Mage, biting the inside of her cheek so she did not scream. He stood with his legs slightly apart, his arms crossed over his chest. “There is no insult here, Your Grace. I accept your offer, with thanks.” 

His face was unreadable, but for a moment she glimpsed a flash of triumph. He inclined his head slightly in assent.

“Then I look forward to sharing a great many things,” he said. Daine wanted to claw his face, thinking that he mocked her once more, but this time there was no smile on his face. “I shall let you know when we are to begin.” He bowed, then turned on his heel and left the two women standing alone in the middle of the menagerie. 

The birds continued to sing overhead, as if the two-leggers had not just danced on the razor’s edge of danger with a man capable of bringing down entire countries with one hand. For a time, they were the only sound in the menagerie, until Alanna turned to her, her face stricken, and whispered, “By all the gods, Daine, what have you done?”


	14. Chapter 14

“I shall let you know when we are to begin.” He bowed, then turned on his heel and left the two women standing alone in the middle of the menagerie. 

The birds continued to sing overhead, as if the two-leggers had not just danced on the razor’s edge of danger with a man capable of bringing down entire countries with one hand. For a time, they were the only sound in the menagerie, until Alanna turned to her, her face stricken, and whispered, “By all the gods, Daine, what have you done?”

***

Daine walked aside Alanna in a daze. She had tried to explain why she had agreed to the Black Mage’s request, but the knight had held up a hand to stop her.

“Not now,” she had said. “you've caused enough trouble, and it's not only the birds with ears here.” Daine felt as if she had been doused in cold water. She had only been trying to prevent Alanna from picking a fight with the Black Mage in the emperor's own menagerie. Daine knew enough to know the menagerie had eyes and ears, and what would have become of their delegation if Alanna had struck the Black Mage in broad daylight? She bit the inside of her cheek, staring resolutely ahead, refusing to look at her friend.

When they rejoined the group, Daine felt as if all eyes were on her. Her cheeks burned, but she squared her shoulders, meeting Duke Gareth’s gaze. A look passed between him and the Lioness, who frowned and shook her head slightly, and at that the older man frowned as well, then turned his back on the two of them to speak once more with Lady Varice.

“We’ll talk about your lapse in judgment later,” Alanna said under her breath.

“Don’t you mean yours?” Daine replied in the same tone. The knight stiffened, turning her purple gaze to Daine, who held it. After a beat, the knight’s mouth thinned to a small line, and she moved to go stand with Gary the Younger, speaking something quietly that caused the young man to look over Alanna’s shoulder at Daine. This time, she looked away. Gary was a kind man, and he and Alanna had been friends for a long time. She could not blame him for believing whatever story the knight would tell.

Kitten trundled up to her, gave her a couple of small sniffs, and turned a reproving shade of green. “Don’t start, Kit,” Daine began, but before she could continue, Gary the Younger approached her, running a hand through his short yellow hair.

“I’m to escort you the rest of the way,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. Daine turned her attention from the dragon to stare at him, disbelieving. Though he was being unfailingly polite, as Gary always was, she knew this was a punishment. For something I did not do! She wouldn’t have even gotten lost if anyone had noticed her in the first place, and hadn’t she been the one who did not even want to come to the menagerie? All she could think of was how unfair it seemed. She would have walked away from the Black Mage unscathed, had Alanna not lost her temper. Now, not only were the talks in jeopardy, but Daine had volunteered to spend more time with the Black Mage, and she did not even yet know what that meant, for any of them.

She balled her fists, keeping a tight rein on her temper. “I don’t know what you heard, but it isn’t--” Gary’s face turned serious as he took her arm in his.

“This isn’t the place, Daine,” he said quietly.

“No, I suppose it’s not,” she snapped. “Not for me to say anything, anyway.”

Gary eyed her a moment longer, then sighed. “Whatever happened,” he said, then lowered his voice so only she could hear, “You know the priority is peace, whatever that means for the rest of us.” She pursed her lips, feeling mutinous, then glanced at Duke Gareth. He stared at her not unkindly, but the steadiness of his gaze cowed her, and her cheeks grew warm, with shame or anger she could not tell.

“I am sure you will all find the next enclosure fascinating,” Varice said as they walked along. She had returned to her gracious hostess self. “Every creature was captured personally by our emperor, for causing trouble to humans.”  

Kitten screeched, startling Daine from her anger. She looked up, and felt the world fall on its side. In front of her, a spidren clicked its talons, the human eyes venomous. She reached instinctively for her bow, but felt only the gossamer of her gown, and her stomach dropped, her vision swam.

“Daine!” Gary hissed, giving her a small shake. Her vision swam back into focus, and she registered that the talons clicked against bars on a cage far too small for a spidren of that size, and the spidren herself was ungroomed and covered in dirt, her eyes full of what Daine recognized as hunger. The sick feeling threatened to consume her as she looked around the new enclosure. Griffins and hurroks, Coldfangs and centaurs, shut up in cages that hemmed in wings, claws, scales. This menagerie was conspicuously silent, save for the occasional growl or grunt that Daine did not need wild magic to interpret as full of impotent rage. Bile rose in her throat, and she grew unsteady, clutching at Gary’s arm as she felt the misery of the more animal-like of the immortals. She felt their rage, their hunger, and she turned away, only to blanch at the sight that met her.

There, in the corner, a pair of Stormwings sat, shifting from foot to foot, their metallic wings clacking. The male had an aquiline nose and watery eyes, while the female was dark, with a lined face that must have once been beautiful in her youth. Daine gasped.

“I thought the emperor was allied with the Stormwings!” she cried out.

“Daine!” Alanna said sharply, rounding on her.

“He is,” Varice said simply. “The price of the pact with King Jokhun was that Queen Barzha and her mate Hebakh be kept here. Believe me, they would have caused as much havoc in Carthak as Stormwings in the north, had our emperor not made the alliance.”

Daine stepped toward the cage, pulling her arm from Gary’s, trembling with rage as she stared at the haughty queen. “What do you feed them?” Daine asked bitterly. Alanna tried to grab her back, but Daine shook off her restraining hand. “Do you bring folk in to scare them, so they can live on that? And these cages are too small. They can’t even move their wings!” Kitten muttered her agreement in dragon.

“We don’t feed them at all,” said Varice, her blue eyes narrowing. “Why would we? You know as well as we do they don’t need food or water to survive. And space? Why, they’re criminals, every last one. What would you have us do, put them in feather beds?”

“I beg your pardon, Lady Varice,” Duke Gareth said, “we do not have any opinions on how the emperor runs his kingdom. Do we, Daine?” Daine took another step toward the Stormwings, and true to his calling, Zek gave her neck a small pinch, squeaking with worry. She stopped in her tracks, turning to Duke Gareth. He cast her a sharp look, and Daine glared down at her feet, gritting her teeth against saying more. “You must forgive us, Lady Varice. It is only Daine’s small gift with animals that makes her ascertain the correctness of their conditions. We see that the emperor does right by all of his charges. Now, might we find a shaded spot to retire? I am an old man, and your sun is fierce.”

Varice shot Daine a look of venom, then turned sweetly to the duke. “Of course, Your Grace,” Varice said, returning to her overly polite self. She guided them away from the menagerie, but Daine lingered, giving one final glance to the imprisoned immortals. The female Stormwing caught her gaze. Daine felt ill looking into those black depths. Then the Stormwing smiled, revealing sharp teeth covered in old blood, and Daine turned quickly away.

“Are you alright?” Gary asked. “You look like you might be sick.”

“That would make more sense than looking away,” Daine snapped.

He straightened. “Your opinion is noted,” Gary said. “But if keeping a clear head in a menagerie is the price I have to pay so more Tortallans don’t suffer, I think I am more than capable of doing so. Are you?” He fixed her with a gaze, and held his hand out to her. For a moment, he was neither the laughing young man she knew, nor the political son of a duke. He was a knight of the realm, sworn to defend it against all enemies.

Daine took his arm, looking at her feet. More than anything, she wanted to be back in her apartment, or better, back on a ship bound for Tortall. But she could not do so without jeopardizing its safety. She would not think of the female Stormwing with her glittering black eyes. She would not think of the churning rage inside of her, the many voices of the immortals that cried out for her help. She would not think of the Black Mage, or the pact she had made with him. Gary was right. Peace was the only thing that mattered.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe 3000 people have read this! Thank you everyone who has commented or left kudos, you guys are all amazing and I love reading everything you write :3

“Well, are you?” 

“What? Following her around like some schoolboy? Don’t be absurd.” Numair gestured for Talu to bring them some tea, and studiously ignored the amused look on his valet’s face. Somehow, when Talu and Lindhall were in the same room, Numair always felt as if he were a boy again, waiting on direction rather than guiding matters himself. 

It was altogether unpleasant.

Numair frowned and leaned back in his chair, an ornate leather wingback that matched the Northern-style of decoration in Lindhall’s tower. He never ceased to admire them, though admittedly, the chairs were Numair’s own touch. Lindhall had no cares for the comforts of life, and would just as easily sit on a burlap sack upon the ground to study his creatures. Numair thought his additions--the leather chairs, the nearly overpowering mahogany desk, actual shelves carved with reliefs of animals chasing each other around the borders--lent Lindhall the gravitas of the respected professor that he was. Lindhall maintained Numair wasted his time, but nor did he refuse to look supremely comfortable as they sat across the solid stone slab that served as the buttress of their backgammon game. 

“It is your turn. And I would hardly call it absurdity,” Lindhall said. Numair reached across the table, moving his coin a few spaces around the backgammon board to seize Lindhall’s own. His former teacher pursed his lips, shaking his head imperceptibly. 

“I’m too old for hints, Lindhall.”

“Suit yourself,” the professor replied, rolling the dice. The board was a beautifully wrought thing, encased in dark wood and inlaid with onyx and mother-of-pearl. Numair had always thought it a well-done piece of art, if not bordering on gaudy. The coins were well-worn marble that held tiny clear gems that winked in the sun streaming through the windows, the only accession to the fact that they remained in Carthak and did not, in fact, reside in Tortall, as the rest of the decor would suggest. The whole thing was terribly impractical, Numair thought as he flipped a coin over his knuckles, but gifts from the emperor often were, and Ozorne shared Numair’s esteem for their former professor, even if they shared little else these days. 

Lindhall threw the dice, and as usual, the exact numbers he needed to put Numair at a disadvantage fell on the board. “Ah, lovely,” Lindhall continued as he moved his pieces. “Now, you certainly followed her to the aviary last night, that is not in question. Please do not bother denying it, Talu told me how quickly you hurried from the hall. So it would not be absurd to follow the logic that you, yourself, are indeed following her. And while others may be uncertain of how far your reach extends in this palace, I have no illusions on that front. If you wanted to know where she was this afternoon, it would have been the work of a moment to find out, and less than that to be where she was. Especially a place as uncommon as that particular enclosure.”

Talu placed a tray of tea near the Black Mage, pouring a cup for his master and Lindhall, then picking a small sweet date from a crystal bowl and popping it in his mouth before moving away.

“I did not  _ hurry _ from the hall,” Numair protested. “Hurrying is undignified. The grand vizier of Carthak does not  _ hurry _ anywhere.”

“My apologies, Master Salmalin. You moved with feet as winged as the birds the young diplomat heals, which merely looked like hurrying from an uneducated vantage,” Talu replied, taking his place against the wall, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. Numair scowled at him, then returned his attention to the backgammon board.

“She’s the first wild mage we’ve seen in an age. I admit I’m more than curious about her. But I am not damn well following her.” He frowned at the board, then rubbed his jaw, feeling a hint of coarse stubble. He would need to shave before the banquet tonight.

“I agree she is quite an interesting woman, but I hope you will put any thoughts of studying her out of your head,” Lindhall said.

“And why is that?” Numair asked.

“Because she does not need to be studied. She is here with her delegation, and to heal the emperor’s birds. Best that you let her do her work in peace,” Lindhall replied.

Numair quietly regarded the board. She certainly did need studying, and he was the one who would do it. It would be easier if Lindhall would see matters his own way, of course. He cast aside the thought that he sought his old professor’s approval for himself, and attributed his need to convince the man to the fact that Lindhall’s blessing would secure the girl’s trust more, which would ease his path of study. “Did you not hear me the first time, Lindhall? She’s a wild mage. By the gods, when was the last time you even heard of a true wild mage, let alone met one? No, don’t answer that. You know as well as I such a thing is relegated to books of myth and legend. But now the fantasy comes to life. If there were anyone who knew more of wild magic than myself, I would cede to them to study her. But there is only me.” Numair said.

Lindhall frowned. “Only Master Numair, you say? I imagine she would not agree on that front. She is not so practiced a diplomat that her opinion of you is not perfectly clear.”

“Perhaps we did not quite meet on the right foot, but I intend to rectify that.”

“Better that you leave her be, Numair.” Lindhall’s voice was edged with warning, and not a little bit of concern. “The Tortallan delegation has come for peace, and she has come to heal the emperor’s birds, nothing more. She may be a lovely diplomat, but she is a diplomat nonetheless.”

Numair frowned. Lovely was an understatement. Daine was gods-cursed beautiful, as every young idiot at the opening banquet had agreed, and talk of ‘the girl with that  _ dress _ ’ had been circling the palace all morning, said with admiration from the men, which angered him a little, and jealous disdain from the women, which surprised him not at all.  

But it was not that alone which drew him. No, if she were merely beautiful, he would be able to put her aside easily, as he had with many others. Yet he found that try as he might, he had not been able to stop thinking of her. She knew she should be scared of him, but she could not seem to bring herself to be so. She was frank, honest, and challenged him while trying desperately--and failing quite spectacularly--to be polite. The intelligent spark in her eyes belied her assurances that she was nothing but a simple girl from Tortall, and though he may tease her for her ignorance in their ways, he knew she hid a depth of knowledge that none before had attempted to plumb.

She was for him. That was all there was to it.

Never before had he felt drawn to a woman the way he felt drawn to this Daine. Every time he saw her, his hands itched to touch her, and he found each time he was unable to stop himself. And when she had yielded to him the other night...by the gods, it was like nothing else he had felt before. He could still feel her breasts filling his hands, her skin burning like fire, and he had felt the passion in her like a wild thing. Like her magic, it was raw and untamed, and wanted shaping. No doubt the clumsy attempts by the farmboys back home had done nothing to show her what depths of power she possessed, just as that half-baked knight sorceress knew nothing about showing Daine how to control her magic. It had been all he could do to keep his hands from her in the hyena enclosure, and even at that he had failed, holding her hand in his arm, torturing his own self with the intoxicating nearness of her.

He gritted his teeth. Numair wanted nothing more than to be the one to unlock the passion in her, maidenhead be damned, but it was a line he was not willing to cross. She deserved to come to decisions like that on her own time. And any persuasion from him risked bringing the wrath of the entire Tortallan delegation upon his head. He was no fool; his ability to teach her, to explore her magic, was contingent on her and her chaperones remaining amenable. He could prod their tempers, but if he trifled with her, she would be shipped back to Tortall on the first boat that had no leaks. He would lose his only chance to explore her magic and learn secrets never before unlocked by any mage. 

And if he did not lose that chance, if he could study her, then he would be the first mage to study the only subject in the world that was spilling over with the stuff.

It was the only thing that stopped him in the menagerie. In flowing white muslin and framed by desiccated grounds and laughing hyenas, she had looked like something otherworldly, a vision from the realms of the gods. It would have been so easy to close the distance between them and catch her slim wrists in one hand, to hold them over her head while pulling the hem of her dress to her hips, trailing his fingers over those silken thighs. It would have been nothing to dip his mouth to hers, feel her yield again to his tongue’s harsh demands.

But then she had mentioned the hyenas, who gave favor to the man with power. 

He shifted uncomfortably, as hard as the damned marble pieces they played with. He could not bed her. She was too valuable, for too many reasons. It was only sheer luck that the Lioness had lost her temper and allowed him the small opening to be closer to the girl, and more luck still that Daine had leaped at the chance to nobly support her country by appeasing him.

He would not waste this chance.

“It’s your move,” Lindhall said, interrupting his thoughts. Numair shifted again, then rolled the dice, frowning at the numbers. No matter. The game was not yet over. He moved his coins, setting up a defensive position. 

“She’s a rare instrument, Lindhall,” Numair said, leaning back in his chair. “Even you can’t deny it. An arcane myth come to life, and perhaps in a charming package, but that is hardly the point. Imagine what she could be, with the right training.”

Lindhall gave Numair a reproving look. “She has a teacher. You know this as well as I.”

“Alanna has done her best,” Numair said charitably. “But she only knows what she knows, and nothing else. Any young mage needs a teacher who understands how to shape their magic. And Daine should learn what a wild mage needs, not what a battle healer needs. Tortall cannot offer such learning, but I can.”

The professor sighed, moving a coin off the board. “I cannot say that you are incorrect. Young mages should be guided well, or risk ruin. But I hardly think that person should be you.”

“Lindhall, you wound me. Why not my most esteemed self?” Numair’s eyes danced, and he smiled as his friend pulled a face.

“Shall we go through the list again?” Lindhall replied. “You’re a womanizer--famous for it, in fact. You’re impulsive, for all you try to claim otherwise. You’re a painful know-it-all, so the poor child will probably spend more time being incensed by you than learning from you. And you’re the grand vizier of Carthak, who is suggesting he take the youngest member of a foreign delegation under his wing, in what will only be the most unseemly event of the season, if not the century.”

Numair chuckled. “So dramatic, Lindhall. We are in Carthak, not Tortall. The unseemliness here wouldn’t even rate.” 

Lindhall looked away, fighting to not pull anxiously at a thread on his robe. “You also know Ozorne would not like it.”

“Is that a thing that stops me these days?

The words were said lightly, but the blood drained from his professor’s face nonetheless, his eyes darting around the room. It was a habit, as both men knew this tower was safe from the listening spells of the emperor. Numair had seen to that bit of magic himself, and knew Lindhall was deeply thankful to his friend for it. It irked him, that Lindhall would think Ozorne more powerful than he, but he understood his professor’s circumspection, and did not fault him for it. Lindhall swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. “I wish you would have a care in the way you speak, Numair. These are not easy times.”

Numair leaned back in his chair. “Indeed, they are not. I merely meant to say that the emperor would likely approve of my studying the girl far more than my current studies, would you not agree?”

At that, all dreaminess left Lindhall’s gaze, and his clear eyes sharpened, focusing on the Black Mage with an intensity that nearly caused him to fidget like the schoolboy he had once been.

“Your current studies?” Lindhall asked slowly. “These studies would not involve what I was told were hypothetical talks, the unwise words of men deep in drink, would they?” Numair turned his attention back to the board, moved a coin closer to home, nodded once. He heard Lindhall inhale sharply. “Numair,” the older man said, an edge of panic creeping into his voice, “you cannot be serious. These were the ravings of madness after too much wine. We deemed it ludicrous!”

“You deemed it ludicrous, Lindhall. But I,” Numair replied, leaning back in his chair, “I saw it as an inevitability.”

“Tell me I can dissuade you.”

“The groundwork has been laid, my friend. And I fear I am too far along to stop.” He leaned back in the heavy leather chair, fixing Lindhall with a dark gaze. “But,” he continued, and a small smile played at the corner of his lips, “perhaps I could be delayed, had I something else on which to focus.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has commented and waited around for updates! Your comments are so heartening and lovely that they really keep this story at the front of my mind and itching to work on it even as I am inundated with other less exciting life things. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next chapter! My hope is to start posting longer ones so that the waits are more worth it for you all. :)

It was a long time before Daine found her rooms again, and by then she felt as wrung out as an old towel, ready for an end to the day when it had barely begun. If she had thought Corus difficult to navigate, with its raised eyebrows over her birth that even King Jonathan could not silence, it was nothing to the glittering Carthakis who put her in mind of the crocodiles she had seen when she had first landed. If the badger had not put enough fear into her, the crocodiles should have been a good sign to turn around and head right back home. Carthak seemed like a smooth surface, but underneath, who knew what lurked?  


A damned mage who trapped her into accepting lessons, of all things, she thought bitterly. The sight of her bed almost moved her to tears, as she wanted nothing more than to enjoy a few moments of solitude before needing to dress for the next pompous occasion that would have nothing to do with her. But then she realized she was not alone at all, as a female slave pulled at the sheets. She was short, so short Daine almost missed her, but once she had marked the woman, she could not see how that was possible. The woman was far older than any slave Daine had seen before, with a robe looped around one bony shoulder and skimming her knobbed knees. Her head was shaved like the others, white bristles topping a lined face, and the only ornament she wore were snaky lines that threaded around her wrists.  


“Pardon me, dearie, just straightening up.” The old woman busied herself with the bedsheets, tugging them back to replace them with fresh ones. Kitten sauntered into the room, chirruping at the woman, then letting out a piercing whistle.  


“Kit!” Daine admonished, but the old woman just cackled, pinching the dragonet’s snout with two fingers.  


“Hush, little one,” the old woman said, then turned to wink at Daine. Or, the woman would have winked, except for she had only one eye, full of mischief. “Children should be seen and not heard.” To Daine’s great surprise, Kitten made no reply.  


“Here, grandmother,” Daine said as the woman turned back to the bed. “Let me help.” Though her eyes burned with how much she wanted to rest, her ma had not raised her to sit idle when work was to be done, and slave or no slave, this old woman was past her days of setting beds alone. Daine grabbed a corner of the sheet, straightening it out as the slave pulled the other side up to the top of the bed.  


“Thank you, dearie,” the slave said. “You’re from the north, aren’t you? Pink as a rose! What do you make of us Southerners, eh? Carthak to your liking?”  
Daine almost told the truth—that the nobility here shocked her, that the men were appalling, and the city oppressive—then hesitated, realizing perhaps this woman had been sent to spy on her. “It’s…much different than home,” she said finally.  


The old woman nodded. “ That’s a way of putting it, to be sure. But oh, if you had seen it when it was what it once was! So strong and proud, the good old days. Back when folk respected the gods, you know.”  


Daine stared at the woman, trying not to appear shocked, but the slave paid her no mind and continued, “The priests know, but I’m sure most folk barely know they’re here. Bad manners, that. Ignore the priests, and a cold wind blows from the Divine Realms. The omens are no good, not at all. Could be the next time you visit, there won’t be a Carthak to complain about.” Again, the woman gave her a wink, or her best imitation of one. Daine, for her part, said nothing. But she felt a prickle at the back of her neck, the same she felt when a spidren was near. Most slaves said nothing to her at all, only murmuring a Yes Nobility, or a No Nobility, but this slave spoke to her, and more, she spoke of the destruction of Carthak. Did it count as treason, to think the country would fail when it was under the protection of the emperor Ozorne?  


Daine cast a glance to the open windows, but though a breeze played through the gauzy curtains, the room felt suddenly far too warm. The old woman heaved a sigh, patting the coverlet into place. “Have you visited the Temple District yet?” Daine shook her head, and the woman nodded. “It would make sense, for all the care the emperor gives the gods. You should go see for yourself what it has become. It was once the glory of the empire, you know, back before the emperor decided mages and the imperial army should be. Now he thinks he doesn’t need the gods, the silly man.” Daine felt faint, and walked to the wash basin that was eternally filled and perpetually cold. Before, she had thought it an extravagant waste of magic. Now, she was grateful to splash the cool water on her face as she tried to breathe normally. That answers that, she thought, hoping the old woman knew what she was doing. Perhaps she was so old that they allowed her to say things like this, things one could write off as the senile rantings of the elderly. One thing was for certain, Daine was done having her room cleaned. She turned to tell the woman, who whisked a duster over the vanity, then flicked the feathers over Kitten’s nose. The dragonet sneezed, then squealed, her scales turning an angry red as the pitch of her shriek rose higher.  


“Kitten!” Daine admonished. The noise rose even higher, piercing Daine’s ears. “Stop it this instant! You’re hurting Zek!” The dragon trailed off, looking over at the marmoset, who has his paws clamped firmly on his ears. Sullenly, she turned grey and whistled an apology.  


“That one wants discipline,” said the old slave. “Her own folk would never allow her to speak out of turn.” Daine rounded on the woman, about to ask her what she knew of dragons anyway, but the woman was busy struggling to pull something from beneath the bed. When she finally freed her prize, she huffed to Daine, “Help me with this, dearie, would you?”  


“Oh, of course,” Daine said without thinking, hurrying to relieve the old woman of her bundle. She barely registered the orange and black stripes before the woman dumped the tiger rug into her arms.  


Silver flashed across her eyes, as bright as a shooting star. Daine dropped the rug, stumbling backward, blinking hard to clear her vision. When she could see again, she nearly wished the gods would take her sight.  


I don’t think he’s supposed to do that, said Zek from the corner of the room. The fur rippled, then arched its back in a very cat-like way, opening its huge jaws and showing rows of tiger teeth. It took a few steps, then curled up, flicking its tail across its nose. The marmoset screeched and dove under the covers of the bed.  


“Grandmother, you had better get out of here!” Daine cried, falling backward. The door opened, and a young slave—a girl—peered inside.  


“Did you call for this one, Nobility?” the slave asked, coming in to the room and pressing her forehead to the floor. Daine looked around, wondering where the old woman had gone.  


“Where is the woman who was just cleaning my room?” she asked.  


“Woman, Nobility?” the slave replied, looking up. “Cleaning your room is this unworthy one’s task. There is no other.”  


“She was just here,” Daine said, but trailed off at the look on the slave’s face. If someone else had come in here without the slave knowing, this girl might be in trouble, and Daine did not want that. Her eyes darted to the rug, whose paws were curled beneath it, tail wrapped around its nose. If Daine didn’t know any better, she would swear it looked smug. Except that rugs aren’t supposed to have looks, she thought, biting her lip. “Or not,” she continued lamely. “I must have fallen asleep and dreamed…”  


“Can I be of service, Nobility?” the slave asked, her voice full of worry. Daine nodded, pointing at the rug.  


“That,” Daine said, “it’s very…disturbing. Could you remove it from my room?” The slave’s face went serene, happy to fulfill any odd request as long as it was something she understood.  


“Yes, of course, Nobility. Right away.” The slave picked up the tiger skin, wrapped it in a bundle and left Daine, who fell into a chair, releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Zek chittered, jumping onto her shoulder and nuzzling her cheek, while Kitten patted her hand.  


“How am I supposed to stay out of trouble if it keeps finding me?” Daine asked, scratching the marmoset’s head. Maybe we could just stay here for the rest of the trip? Zek asked hopefully.  


Daine was seriously considering how she might pull of such a thing, when Alanna’s face appeared in the doorway. For a moment, Daine’s heart soared, hoping now was the moment she could get Alanna alone, tell her all the strange happenings, the badger, the tiger skin, the strange old women who spoke of doom. But her hopes were quickly dashed as the knight took in her disheveled appearance with a frown.  


“Did you forget we had a banquet to get to?” the knight asked. Alanna herself was dressed in a deep purple doublet and black breeches, with diamond bobs in her ears. Daine shot to her feet.  


“I was just--”  


Alanna held up a hand. “You’ve still got a little time, but make it quick. I don’t want to be late to the opening of the peace negotiations. It would set a bad tone, and I think we have had more than enough of that.” She was about to shut the door, then paused, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “And Daine,” she said, pitching her voice low, “I will tell you now, you are not taking those lessons. I don’t know how much clearer we could have been that you were to stay away from that man, but I certainly will not allow you to learn whatever it is he thinks he is going to teach you.”  


Daine stiffened. She had no intention of learning anything from the Black Mage, but the brazen way Alanna was forbidding her to go chafed like a burr under a saddle. “But what if he really could help me learn more about animals, about my magic?” she asked. The knight huffed, then scrubbed a hand over her face, her cheeks turning red with frustration.  


“He’s not going to help you learn about your magic, Daine.”  


“You don’t know that.” He had sat in the aviary with her and held her hand, had made her magic stronger through himself. He knew things that could help her, and even if she did not want anything from him, how could her friend want her to not learn more about what her magic was, who she was?  


“I most certainly do,” Alanna replied.  


“But if he could help me--”  


“I would still forbid it!” Alanna slammed her fist down onto the small dresser, and a few of the toiletries the palace had provided fell with pathetic tinkling noises, too fragile to put up a fight against the King’s Champion. “Goddess bless, use your head, Daine! A man in his position is not obliged to take a student with no family name or title. And a man with his reputation does not take on a young student so he can teach her about a magic that most people think is a legend. He would look like a fool, understand?”  


Daine felt cold inside. “I think I understand perfectly,” she said. “He would be an idiot to teach me, because I’m a bastard, and good for little else but a roll in the hay. Who would waste time on teaching me anything?”  


“Goddess, Daine. Are you purposefully trying to miss the point?” Alanna replied. Daine turned her back on the knight, crossing the room to the armoire and opening it wide, studiously reviewing the rest of the dresses.  


“I’m going to be late to the banquet if I don’t start getting ready.”  


“Daine--”  


“Unless you had opinions on what I am going to wear? You can stay and make sure Thayet’s dresses don’t make me look too much like the whore everyone takes me for. Or will it matter, without a family name or title? I could probably go naked and it would be the same.”  


“Tantrums are for babies, Daine,” Alanna warned, her voice taut.  


“And yet you threw one in the menagerie over nothing and nearly cost us this whole mission. The Black Mage offered me lessons and I am taking them, or should I jeopardize the peace for our entire country because you don’t like someone?” Daine tugged some pale blue creation from the armoire and tossed it on the bed.  
For a moment, there was silence, and Daine felt some of the anger trickle out of her. She wondered if she shouldn’t turn around and apologize, beg Alanna to help her get out of these gods-cursed lessons she had no wish to have in the first place.  


“Thank all of the gods that you have no say here, Daine,” Alanna bit out. Then the knight turned on her heel and left the apartment, fair slamming the heavy wooden door behind her.  


Daine whirled around, staring at the closed door for a long while. She had been cross with Alanna before, but she had never felt treated unfairly by her teacher. Until now, Daine thought bitterly, her eyes traveling along the ornate vines carved into the wood. Heat crept up her spine and bloomed in her cheeks. She curled her hands into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She scented pine trees, and cold snow in the distance.  


Please don’t change your smell again, Zek said in a small voice, peering out from his hiding place under the covers of the bed. When you get all mad, you change your smell and it’s like People who eat other People.  


Daine scarcely heard him. She licked her lips, and tasted blood.


	17. Chapter 17

By the time Daine calmed herself, she knew she was late. The apartments outside her door were silent, as empty as the pit in her stomach when she realized the delegation had gone on without her. Goddess only knew what Alanna had told Duke Gareth in order for them to leave her behind, but there it was. Daine sullenly tugged at a curl as she made her way toward the banquet hall, in no shortage of company as other Carthaki nobles headed the same direction. Yet she could not shake the feeling of being completely alone. Not even Zek’s warmth against her neck could change it. 

She approached the doors that led to the banquet hall and sighed at the crush of nobles waiting their turn to be heralded into the room. Her delegation was nowhere to be seen, undoubtedly already inside, so she took up a spot at the back of the queue, smoothing the white muslin of her dress as best she could. There had been no time to change, and she decided there was no goodly point anyhow. Nobles were always changing, she thought, when simple folk could wear the same clothes all the time and be worth more than the whole lot. Daine turned the thought over and over in her head, for no reason other than it kept her from thinking of anything--or anyone--else, until she was startled by a voice primly saying, “Name?” in a low voice. 

The herald held a list of the attendees and looked at her with consternation and a slight nervousness that Daine had learned was the look of nobles who needed one to affirm that everything was still in perfectly working order. For a rebellious moment, Daine thought of giving Rattail’s name and seeing the commotion it would cause, but it was not this man’s fault she had not arrived with her delegation. Instead, she sighed and said, “Veralidaine Sarrasri, of Tortall.” At the sound of her last name, the herald’s mouth twitched downward slightly, and the pit in Daine’s stomach grew. Even here, they knew what no title and a woman’s family name meant. Without the delegation to surround her, the herald felt no shame in sweeping her with a pompous look before giving a little sniff and checking his list with an air that told Daine he hoped she was not on it. When he arrived at her name, he sniffed again, then announced her, the sound of her name ringing out across the hall. 

Daine shuffled inside, meaning to be as unobtrusive as possible and to look only for her delegation. As she walked into the sunlit hall, she glanced at the dais and saw the emperor, resplendent in silver this time, leaning easily in his throne and nibbling on whatever Varice Kingsford found fit to bring him. Beside him, in his proper place at the proper time, for once, sat the Black Mage. Varice moved from the emperor to whisper in the Black Mage’s ear, and he smirked, shaking his head and waving Varice away. Then he turned, and Daine found herself of a sudden caught in his onyx gaze. Quickly, she looked away, blaming the sun streaming in through the open windows for the sudden warmth that filled her. 

If she had not realized it already, the afternoon banquet that opened the festivities confirmed her suspicions: Carthak did nothing without an extraordinary amount of ceremony. The tables were full to bursting with an array of light, cool foods preferred in the warmer lands for a daytime refreshment, while the more scholarly mages had magicked the rays of sun shining on the walls into light shows that rippled and danced. Music wafted through the hall, lazy melodies that beat along with tambourines mingling with the heat. Daine scoured the room and saw that Duke Gareth was seated with honor nearest to the emperor’s throne, with the rest of the Tortallan delegation arranged by order of importance. Alanna sat at Duke Gareth’s right hand, and Daine bit her lip as she realized there was no place for her at their table. More food for us where there’s less people, Zek volunteered. Daine nodded, trying to ignore the lump in her throat, and took a seat farthest from the head of the table, near lesser dignitaries from other lands. 

The other foreigners sang the praises of the spread, and Daine gathered from their talk that Varice was something of a legend when it came to these sorts of parties. She surveyed the bewildering choices covering the table, some foods familiar and some entirely unknown. Zek popped out from behind her hair to point out the choicest dishes, all plant foods. Daine did not complain, having little appetite anyway after the events of the morning, and nibbled a cucumber slice that had been lightly salted, watching the proceedings with half-interest. Varice paid the most attention to the Tortallan delegation, but Daine noticed she seemed to be in two places at once, heaping Duke Gareth’s plate with eel pastry and elephant ear soup, while somehow never leaving the emperor’s right hand, dressing down the slave who was his food taster for not nibbling fast enough to allow the emperor to try all of her creations in quick order. The Black Mage rebuffed all of Varice’s attempts to fill his own plate. He was deep in conversation with the courtier to his left, his chin propped in one hand, his smallest finger resting on his mouth. He moved it imperceptibly against his lower lip, and a jolt shot through her belly. Daine put down the cucumber she had been eating, remembering the feeling of his lips on hers and wishing she did not. She did not want to think about him at all, certainly not in a way that made her wonder what the rest of him felt like. Whatever appetite she had fled, and Daine stared at her plate, her cheeks suffused with warmth, wondering for the thousandth time just what she was in for in this strange land. 

At last a bell rang, signaling the end of the meal and the beginning of the talks. The emperor rose, and the dignitaries required at the talks rose along with him, following the silvered man to a smaller chamber where they could better arrange a peace between nations that refused to admit they were warring. As part of the Tortallan delegation, Daine rose as well, then stood awkwardly, not sure if she was invited at all after the events of the morning. She tried to catch the eye of anyone she knew, but their backs were all retreating to the next chamber. Someone jostled her out of their way, and she bumped into the table, steadying herself with her hands. The lump in her throat grew as she sank back to her seat, unsure of where she belonged. 

“You seem to be in need of an escort, my lady.” 

Daine’s eyes grew round as Prince Kaddar appeared at her side, his hand outstretched for her to take. It was a mercy, and one he did not need to employ, noble as he was. She swallowed, giving him a shy smile. 

“Just Daine, my lord,” she replied, thinking that folk at home at no problem remembering she wasn’t of noble birth. “I’m no lady. And I am not so sure I am needed at these talks.” 

He waved a hand in the air as she had seen the Black Mage do to Varice. But where the Black Mage had been dismissive, Prince Kaddar seemed kind, as if his fingers could brush away all the hurt of the day. “Nonsense, my lady. I would hazard a guess that you are needed everywhere you go. Come, your delegation misses you, I am sure.” 

His words filled her with courage, and she took his hand as he pulled her to her feet. With a comforting pat, he tucked her hand into his arm and led her towards the chamber. 

A large table made of rich dark wood dominated the room, covered in the painted arabesque patterns that adorned the walls and surrounded by sumptuous chairs heaped with cushions. Large arched windows let in the gentle midday breeze, and the smell of jasmine and orange blossoms drifted in. 

It would have been lovely, had she been with her friends. But though Alanna glanced over as the prince entered, her eyes turned steely seeing them together, and she turned back to the emperor as if she had not seen Daine at all. Daine lifted her chin, refusing to feel guilty for accepting Prince Kaddar’s arm. If everyone else wanted to ignore her, so be it. But they could not very well have a say in the company she kept with those who chose to acknowledge her. 

“Sit here,” Prince Kaddar whispered, letting her go. “And wait for me.” Daine felt a small pang as he took his hand away. It was the first kindness she had felt that day. 

“Wait for you? For what?” 

The prince did not answer, only gave her a winning smile that filled her stomach with butterflies, and winked. Then he disappeared into a crush of nobles to take his proper seat near to the emperor. 

With no real role to play in the diplomatic talks, Daine was relegated to the back of the room, where she could hardly see the emperor seated at the table, or the rest of her party for that matter. Kitten craned her neck to see the proceedings, while Zek, full of fruit from the banquet, slid off of Daine’s shoulder to curl up beside the dragon and fall asleep. 

But Ozorne’s voice carried as he stood to address the room. 

“We bid you welcome, representatives of our eminent cousins, King Jonathan of Tortall, and his queen, Thayet the Peerless, and of our fellow monarchs and neighbors.” His voice filled the room. “ This day has been too long in coming. At last we are met in a spirit of mutual aid and support for our lands, so long at odds. Villains conspired to bring us to the brink of war, but wisdom and vigilance have kept us from stepping over. All our hearts desire only peace. 

“Without our knowledge and consent, evil men contrived four years ago to steal arcane learning secretly held for centuries. With this ill-gained knowledge, they reversed what the writers of those spells had dedicated their lives to achieve, the banning from our human, mortal existence those creatures loosely called immortals, the semidivine beings who may live forever unless accident or force brings their lives to a halt. 

“To our sorrow, our person and our university were blamed for this dreadful misuse of power. Our cousins of Tortall, sore beset by immortals and by those who prey on a land open to attack, felt we were to blame, and who could contest it? Loving freedom and commerce, we kept too little watch on our library, on our shipwrights, on those who hired men and paid them in Carthaki gold. To our shame and sorrow, our lack of awareness caused our Tortallan cousins to think we condoned the behavior of pirates, bandits, and rogues. Let us now set the matter straight. Let us strive together for peace between our peoples, and put aside all past misunderstandings. 

“May the gods bless our endeavors, and may they foster the peace for which we all long.” Ozorne smiled, turning his gaze to all in the crowd, then sat with a flourish, looking for all the world as if the matter were already settled. 

Duke Gareth cleared his throat, then stood to read the letter that had been prepared by King Jonathan. Daine pulled at a curl, wishing she could be more interested in this suing for peace, but she had heard all the contents of the letter more than once on their voyage from Tortall, and knew it would not be a short reading. Her mind wandered, and lest she return to Alanna, or the Black Mage, Daine forced herself to think on something else, like the tiger skin that decided it wanted to walk around. And King Jonathan thought I would be bored, she thought sourly, remembering the skin twitching its tail as if it were a house cat. Something in the way it had moved reminded her of the badger, and his warning. When would she get the chance to tell Alanna now, with the knight so vexed with her? 

If only I knew what the gods intend, or when they intend it, Daine thought, chewing her lower lip. If Alanna’s stories were anything to go by, and the gods were involved, they weren’t intending anything small. But Daine didn’t even know how to start warning the knight of what the badger had to say. Something bad is going to happen? It sounded weak even to her own ears, though she remembered just how anxious the badger had sounded when he had said it. 

The speeches had moved on to the ambassadors, and Daine felt her eyelids growing heavy. The day had already been so long. With badger warnings and droning speech circling in her head, and with the heat of the day drifting through the windows, Daine wondered just how rude it really was to fall asleep during the middle of a peace talk. Zek, still curled peaceully beside Kitten, snored softly, small sounds of sleep squeaking from him every so often. Daine sighed with envy. 

A clerk tapped her on the shoulder, holding a note out to her. It was from Duke Gareth. 

_The prince has requested you accompany him on a personal tour of the palace rather than be bored at these talks.  
You are permitted to decline, should you choose an interest in diplomacy over another menagerie._

The note hit her like a blow to the belly. Though he spoke in the double tongue of a political man, she knew what he meant: she could stay and behave, or wander off again and bring their ire. 

The duke’s words from the morning, that she was but a child in a foreign country, rang in her ears. They trusted her as much as they had when she was a mud-stained pup from Galla, as if the last four years, helping with the siege at Pirate’s Swoop, uncovering Tristan’s plot, all had done nothing to recommend her. 

The clerk cleared his throat softly, his hand holding a quill for her response. Neatly, Daine plucked it from his hand, and before she could change her mind, turned the note over and wrote: 

__

_Thank you for your kind words, Your Grace. I will see you at the evening banquet._


End file.
